Those Who Favour Fire
by as giants do
Summary: "From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire." By 1967, the only thing the Greasers have left to hate is each other. And it doesn't matter who gets stuck in the middle. Rated M for safety, for violence.
1. fire and ice

_This is nothing more than a prologue; a set-up, if you will, for the story ahead. Which means it will be the shortest chapter by far. Feel free to review, but there isn't much to say on this chapter so I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. In the future though, reviews for me are like gasoline for a car: they keep me going. They definitely inspire me to write more, far more quickly. xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>Some say the world will end in fire,<em>  
><em>some say in ice.<em>  
><em>From what I've tasted of desire<em>  
><em>I hold with those who favor fire.<em>  
><em>But if it had to perish twice,<em>  
><em>I think I know enough of hate<em>  
><em>to say that for destruction ice<em>  
><em>is also great<em>  
><em>and would suffice.<em>  
>- Robert Frost<p>

The class wars couldn't last forever; Socs and Greasers couldn't go on hating each other until they died. Two of them already did that and what had it gotten them – besides dead? It made everything more real to everyone. Yelling at that kid for being poor wasn't just a harmless prank anymore. And pulling a blade on a Soc wasn't an empty threat like before.

Bob Sheldon had a nice funeral. Loads of flowers and a mahogany casket in a central plot of Tulsa's cemetery. His parents paid a pretty penny for it, and cried through the entire service, blaming themselves for what had happened. If they had only kept him inside, or taken away his fake ID when they found it in his room the weekend before. Maybe they should have grounded him for talking back just one time.

No one had the money to buy Johnny Cade a casket. And Dallas Winston's father never even bothered claiming the body. Both were cremated, and Darrell Curtis kept the urns, set right up in the living room along with Johnny's old yearbook picture, and the ring Dallas' rolled a drunk to get all those years ago. Their funeral was private and intimate; just the gang, and Tim Shepard, who had known the desperate and violent side of Dallas that he'd tried to hide from everyone else.

It was Tim who had supplied the gun that Dallas passed on to Johnny and Ponyboy that night Bob was killed. He'd never gotten it back.

By 1967, they only hated each other.


	2. funny

_It's not funny, we're not laughing like we did before  
>it's not funny, it's just hurting more and more<em>

"I don't see why I couldn't walk to the Ribbon with Laura and Ruby," Sophie grumbled from the passenger seat of her brother's black 1963 Riviera – a "graduation present" from a never-present father who apparently hadn't heard that Joel Baker had dropped out when he was fifteen years old.

"'Cause it's too close to River Kings' territory, I told you." Joel drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I ain't sure I want you goin' there at all."

"We aren't going to Jay's," Sophie fought, leaning back in the seat with her arms crossed over her seatbelt. "We don't even have c_ars._"

"I told you it ain't 'cause of them Shepard boys, though I'd sooner not have you goin' near them, neither."

Sophie said, "Look, just because you have beef with every gang in history, doesn't mean I do too. I don't even have anything to do with it. Pull over here, there's Ruby!"

"You from Brumly?" Joel asked, putting his car into park beside a row of empty vehicles in front of a dime store that was closed already, even though it was only seven o'clock on a Saturday. "Then it's got to do with you."

"I've been gone for years," she countered before getting out of the car. She shut the door but leaned down to talk to her brother through the open window. "Nobody even knows who I am. We're just going to Hogan's for a bit, and I'll be home before midnight."

"We'll keep an eye on her, Joel!" Ruby shouted gleefully, putting her arm around Sophie's small shoulders. "Mark's gonna come get us later and take us all home."

Joel knew Mark – he was the same age, and lived just down the street. He was pretty smart, considering where he came from – the entire Brumly subdivision was pretty stupid – so Joel nodded. "Jus' make sure she gets home okay."

"No problem, captain," Ruby said, and Sophie saluted. Then they ran off, giggling and pushing each other a little, towards the blue and white diner near the end of the stretch. It was a pretty big hangout for middle school kids, and no one dangerous – the Brumly outfit, Shepard's gang, the River Kings, or any socs – ever really went there. Shepard's gang had taken over Jay's from the socs a few months back so they mainly stuck to driving up and down and didn't park much, and Brumly liked the Dairy Queen.

"Laura's already here," Ruby whispered, "but she brought _James_."

"They're still together?" Sophie asked, scrunching up her nose in disgust. "They were on-and-off when I left, and that was two years ago!"

"I know, we all thought they'd break up for good last time." Ruby pulled the glass door open and let Sophie go in ahead. "But he's still hangin' 'round an' she's still lettin' him."

They spotted Laura in a back booth, sharing a 7-Up with James. His hair was still dark orange and far too greased, and Laura had taken to over-plucking her eyebrows and wearing makeup – thick eyeliner, eye shadow, and cover-up. It looked horrible, but Sophie didn't say a thing because that's just how girls on the east side looked. Ruby was like that, too. Sophie probably would have been just the same if she hadn't gotten out for a little while, spent some time in California at a nice school.

"SOPHIE!" Laura screeched, scrambling over James' lap out of the booth and flying at Sophie to hug her tight around the neck. It pulled at her hair, which she'd grown out all the way to her ribcage, but she just hugged Laura back, and let herself be dragged into the booth. There was already a chocolate milkshake there waiting for her.

"Hello James," Sophie said politely. He just nodded in return. The sixteen year old freckle-faced greaser tried to act a lot tougher than he really was, because Freddy – the Brumly gang's leader – didn't take him seriously at all.

Laura nudged him in the ribs and he glared at her, but still didn't say a word. So she sighed and gave up, and instead asked, "So what was California like?"

After a round of burgers and fries, and a lot of catching up on what had gone on in Tulsa since Sophie had left, it was already almost ten o'clock and Mark was striding in through the door, towards their table with his face set. A few of the middle-class and socy kids watched him nervously, but Ruby waved him over enthusiastically.

"We gotta go," Mark said seriously, cutting off whatever silly greeting Ruby was about to issue. "Hurry up. All of you."

"Actually, I was gonna get a ride home from James if that's okay," Laura stated in an attempt to sound far more mature than she was.

"I ain't got time for your shit," he growled, grabbing Ruby by the arm and pulling her out of the booth. "All y'all, let's go, right now."

Sophie followed quietly behind her friends, her stomach twisting a little. Mark threw the door open and led them out into the cool, dark night, where they could hear shouting and fists making their mark echoing through the otherwise quiet air. Some girls were screaming, and guys were cursing.

"What's going on?" Ruby cried, grabbing her brother's arm. Laura was hanging off James, so Sophie just tried to keep up and not fall back too far. People were pushing past her, rushing to get to their cars, and she stumbled a few times. She was so petite and pale – white-blonde hair, willowy frame, and only five foot two – that no one even noticed when they lost her.

"Hey!" she called, "wait up, will you?" But no one stopped, and soon enough she was caught up in the crowd outside Jay's, the jeering crowd calling for blood. In the middle of the circle were three greasers – one she easily recognized as Freddy Green. Her brother Joel was his second-in-command, and he spent a lot of time around their house.

Another guy had on a black and red leather jacket, so she knew he was a River King, but she didn't know a thing about any of them except for the fact that they were even worse than hoods. They were the cold-blooded types you'd see in street gangs in New York City. But it didn't look like he was doing much fighting – he was in between Freddy and the other boy with his arms stretched out, and he was hollering at the both of them.

They both had knives out. Generally Sophie hated violence, even though it was just about impossible to get away from on her side of town. But something about this drew her in, kept her eyes wide and watching every movement. She was grounded to the spot with unexplainable fear, for she knew she was in no danger herself, but she was still scared – maybe for the guys in the circle, and maybe just because this was the first real fight she'd ever seen, with weapons out and everything.

Somebody came up behind her and grabbed her by the hood of her sweater. She struggled wildly until he pulled her back against his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and swore. "Stop strugglin' Sophie, for God's sake."

"Joel!" she breathed, relieved. She was ready to turn around and hug him, bury her face in his tee shirt and plug her ears, but she was too late. Before she even realized what was happening, Freddy darted forward and slammed his knife, down to the hilt, into the other man's stomach. Then he pulled it out and drove it back into his side. Four more times Freddy struck, and Sophie couldn't breathe. Blood was quickly spreading across his white shirt and dripping down onto the pavement.

Joel moaned. "Oh Freddy, shit. Shit, shit, shit …" over and over again.

Someone shouted, "Call an ambulance!"

The police were already on scene. They didn't bother breaking up the crowd, just rushed in and cuffed Freddy as fast as they could. As he was pulled through the crowd he looked straight at Joel and yelled, "I'll be out soon! Take care of shit while I'm in!"

Joel loosened his grip on Sophie but kept his hands on her upper arms to keep her from running off. Her entire body was shaking and all the colour had drained from her face. She'd never watched somebody die before, not even in movies. But as the greaser lie on the ground bleeding out, she knew he wouldn't be getting back up again. There was just something … you could tell. You could just tell.

Tim Shepard was striding rapidly through the crowd towards Freddy, trying to reach him before they could get him in the police car. "You're dead, Green!" he bellowed over the crowd in his deep, rough, too-many-cigarettes voice, the kind of voice that no one could miss. Freddy was watching him with a smirk as the police patted him down, shoved against the back end of the cruiser. "You and your boys better watch your fuckin' backs."

Then he looked directly into Joel's eyes. "This ain't over, Baker. This has gone too damn far." He was pointing at Joel's chest, and each inflection of his voice made Sophie flinch. "Our treaty's done." Then he disappeared into the roiling sea of people trying to leave before the cops came around again asking questions and arresting stragglers for anything they could think of.

"Let's go Sophie," Joel said quietly. When she wouldn't move, he picked her up like a child, like she was still four years old and his responsibility for five cents a day, and carried her to his car. She was shaking violently all over, and her teeth were chattering.

Joel peeled out of his parking spot and down the Ribbon at least twenty over the speed limit. Sophie watched out the window; at Mark ushering Ruby and Laura into his pickup; Tim Shepard leaning over the body of what she now knew was a member of his outfit, and finally at Freddy, who winked at her and grinned recklessly as they pushed his head down into the backseat of the Ford Crown Victoria, its lights flashing, breaking up the dark of the night.


	3. follow the sun

_One day you'll look to see I've gone  
>for tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun<br>someday you'll know I was the one  
>but tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun<em>

Sophie leaned into the backseat of Mark's pickup. Ruby was in front, chattering about something that neither Sophie nor Laura cared all too much about, so they took to looking out the windows, watching Tulsa flicker before their eyes. They were headed for the Dairy Queen on the Ribbon, although Sophie didn't feel much like eating. It was only two days since she'd watched someone get stabbed and she still wasn't very hungry.

Joel had made her clear out. He had to plan with his boys, then he was going to meet Tim Shepard somewhere to talk about the treaty, and what was going to happen now. Mark had volunteered to take the kids out for a while, to keep them away from the action, because he already knew what their plan of action was. Not that he was going to share it with any of them.

"I didn't know you guys had an actual treaty," Sophie said, trying to sound casual. She leaned forward and rested her arms on the back of the seat between Mark and Ruby. "I thought it was just some unspoken thing that you had each other's backs and all."

"It was," Mark said. "But it ain't no more. Not after those dead kids. Shepard felt like we needed somethin' a little more solid."

"Oooh," she sighed, sitting back again. They were finally at the Dairy Queen. Mark ordered their food for them, and when it came, passed it around. All Sophie had ordered was some fries and a root beer, which she hardly touched. Laura ended up stealing most of her fries.

The whole car smelled like fast food, like barbeque sauce and grease and salt. Even though the police presence had doubled over the weekend, it was only eleven thirty in the morning, so Sophie said, "I'm going for a quick walk, okay? I need some fresh air."

"Just roll down the window," Ruby giggled, like it was the funniest thing she'd ever said.

"Better be quick," Mark warned. Sophie nodded, then hopped down out of the truck and slammed the door behind her. You had to slam Mark's truck doors or else they'd just bounce open again. It wasn't a very nice truck.

There was a light wind coming from the north, but other than that it was a bright, warm morning, only promising to get hotter. She was glad she'd opted for shorts today – cut from a pair of Joel's very old jeans that had been handed down to her at least four years ago – and a tee shirt, olive green with a faded picture of Felix the Cat. She never liked the short-skirts-and-low-cut-blouses ensemble that all her friends wore. She wasn't looking for that kind of attention.

Sometimes she wished she was back in California. On the boardwalk there, in Venice, you could see the ocean stretch out forever. There were hot sandy beaches, and even the girls who came from rough neighbourhoods were pretty nice. There was a dark side of Venice, just like every city, but she'd never seen it from her dormitory window. Sometimes she wished she'd never had to come back, but her father had only paid tuition for two years. So she was back in Tulsa, to start at Will Rogers in September even though she didn't turn fifteen 'til almost the very end of December.

There were a lot of young kids on the Ribbon during the early day. Elementary school kids who felt cool just by being there, even though none of the action started until the sun went down. There were also middle schoolers like her, but they were just out to score some weed from the rare pusher who dared to sell his wares in daylight. Some of them waved at her, even though she didn't know them, and others called out to her asking if she knew where they could buy, or where she got her stupid shirt. One of the greasers even had the gall to call her a soc, even though that insult didn't hold as much weight as it would have before.

Things had changed all over.

There was a bench a way down that was virtually unused now that you weren't supposed to get out of your cars, and Sophie made her way over to it, just to sit down and breathe for a little while. Sometimes it was nice to clear your mind from any thoughts besides your lungs going up and down in your chest.

By the time she reached it though, it wasn't so empty anymore. A tall boy with thick, curly black hair and a lean body was lighting up a cigarette, his feet on the seat, sitting on the back of the bench that was bolted to the cement sidewalk. He noticed Sophie when she stopped short a few feet away, unsure whether she should just turn around and walk back to the truck, or keep going and make it look like she wanted to hit up one of the stores down that way.

"I ain't gonna kill ya," the boy said, not even looking up from his match. "You can sit down."

_It's Joel's beef, not mine,_ Sophie reminded herself before sitting down nervously on the very edge of the bench beside Curly Shepard's shoes.

"I'm Curly," he introduced. Sophie wondered what his real name was, but she didn't ask. On anyone else "Curly" would be a silly nickname, something to laugh at, but he made it seem tough.

"Sophie," she said, looking up at him. He was studying her coolly, through eyes the colour of a storming ocean, or the sky just before midnight. She couldn't read his face though. It was empty, emotionless; exactly like Tim in miniature, except without the thrice-broken crooked nose and scar.

"I ain't never seen you before," he mentioned, courteously blowing the cigarette smoke away from her. He offered her the stick but she shook her head. She never smoked, and never drank, and didn't plan on starting.

"I've been away for a while."

"I can tell."

Sophie raised her eyebrows. "How?" she asked, sincerely curious. She knew she stuck out by the way she dressed and how she never wore any makeup besides maybe a bit of mascara on days she felt like dressing up a little, but it couldn't have been that obvious. Her shorts were still a little too short, even if they were pants and not a skirt, and her shirt had a hole near the bottom hem that showed her side.

"You talk real good," Curly explained. "And your hair ain't dyed. It's all natural blonde."

She twisted a lock around in her fingers. Her nails reflected the sun – painted black with some of her little sister's canvas paints. It was hard to find nice colours in the stores that weren't some shade of bright red, so she decided to just make her own instead with a paintbrush.

"I'm not sure if I should say thanks or not," Sophie laughed nervously, dropping the wavy piece.

Curly shrugged and dropped his finished cigarette onto the ground. "Up to if you wanna grow up rich an' fake, or real."

"Are you calling me a soc?" she asked. It felt a lot more upsetting coming from Curly than that random girl on the street. Maybe because she could feel it in her bones that soon her brother's gang and his were going to be at each other's throats. Maybe it was because he was almost heartbreakingly handsome in an extremely off kind of way. Or maybe it was just his voice – deep and gravelly like Tim's. A voice you had to listen to.

"I ain't sayin' nothin'," he defended lazily, but in his head he was smacking himself around a little. The first cute little chick to get near you in a while who isn't one of your sister's friends just messing around, and you call her fake. He liked her soft skin, and the small beauty mark under the corner of her eye. How she had a little pimple at the corner of her hairline that wasn't hidden by six layers of cover up. She looked real.

"Look, I better get going," Sophie said, standing up and beginning to back away slowly, her white sneakers scraping on loose rocks. "It was nice meeting you, Curly."

"Maybe we'll do this again sometime," he said, hopping off the bench as well, and heading in the other direction.

"Maybe," Sophie mumbled, but she wasn't betting on it. Although something about him drew her in like she couldn't explain, the part of her that had common sense said that he was just a bad news Shepard who hadn't done a thing but insulted her anyway. Not that his insult had been all that articulated – she got the feeling that what people said about Curly was true, that he was just a dumb hood.

When she got back to the Dairy Queen, Mark, Ruby, and Laura were out of the truck, and Joel was leaning on the hood of his car parked beside him. When he caught sight of her, his face steeled over. She braced herself.

"Where the hell were you?" he shouted. "You tell Mark you're jus' gonna step out for some air an' you run off?"

"I said I was going for a walk!" Sophie fought back. "I only went down the street and back. There are cops everywhere, I wasn't gonna get hurt."

"You gotta be more careful now, Soph," Joel said, instantly calmed. He never liked to yell at her, and his dark moods rarely ever lasted when he was with his baby sister. He put his arm around her and led her to the front of his car, where everyone was crowded. She sat down and shuffled back until she was sitting right in the middle of the hood.

"How'd things with Shepard go?" she asked.

Joel gave a shifty look at Mark before replying. "Not so good." But he didn't offer any more information besides, "you gotta be careful where ya walk from now on. If you ain't on the Ribbon with your friends, you gotta stay in our territory only. It ain't gonna be good if you go over the line."

"They aren't going to jump a girl."

"That's the kinda attitude that gets people killed," Joel said seriously. Then he motioned her off his car. "Let's go home. Ma's makin' lunch."

"I thought I was gonna hang out with Ruby and Laura…" Sophie trailed off. They were off giggling and Laura mentioned something about waiting for James, so she just shrugged. The heat of the metal was finally soaking through her jeans anyway, and getting uncomfortable.

"Let's go, then. I'll call Ruby later."

"Hey, wait!" Ruby waved her over. Sophie looked at Joel, waited for him to shrug and nod a little before she hurried over to her friends.

"You leavin' already?" Laura asked sadly. "Dana and James are comin' to meet us at one!"

"Joel wants me to come home," Sophie explained. "I was just gonna call later and see what's up."

"There's a party tonight," Laura said excitedly. "At Buck Merrill's. Ain't even a gang thing, just him wantin' an excuse to play loud music an' get drunk. We're gonna go. You comin'?"

Sophie looked back at Joel nervously, who was relaying the meeting to Mark.

"Oh come on," Ruby pushed. "Just tell him you're stayin' the night at my place, he ain't gonna care. We can do your makeup an' you can borrow a dress from me."

Sophie looked her friend up and down – Ruby was at least four inches taller and had a nicely curvy frame. Nothing of hers would fit. But Sophie shrugged anyway and said, "Sure, I guess so," because she didn't want to stick out so much anymore. If someone as stupid as Curly Shepard could pick it out – then make fun of her for it! – maybe it was time to try something new. "But I'm not drinking."

"No one's gonna make you," Laura promised, but Sophie could see her fingers crossed down by her side.


	4. ammunition

_So I've come to realize that I've been spelling Brumly wrong the whole time. It's supposed to be Brumley. But I don't really care, it doesn't bug me all that much, so I hope it doesn't bug you all that much either. If anyone's even reading this. Doesn't seem like it. Anyway, reviews and what not are always nice, so ... xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>We've been blowing up, we're the issue<br>we're ammunition, we're ammunition, we're ammunition  
>we are the fuse and the ammunition<em>

Ma hadn't made lunch. It was just something Joel said sometimes to get her to come home, even though she knew that ma was in the loony hospital in the city. She hadn't taken it well when dad had left, and she was already a little dizzy as it was. Then she'd taken a little too much acid and after a week of screaming in her bedroom, Joel had finally called the hospital. They hadn't seen her since. That was when Joel dropped out of school.

"I'm going to Laura's tonight," Sophie said, picking at her sandwich. "Ruby and I are spending the night there." She figured that would be a little less suspicious, since Laura had no brothers or sisters so no one could rat them out when they left. Ruby had Mark, and he wouldn't just let them walk out of there.

Walk. She certainly hoped no one was going to try and put her in high heels. She'd never worn them before in her life and it was highly unlikely that she could wobble all the way to Buck Merrill's – which was a good half hour away on foot – without twisting an ankle or falling over.

"Good, good," Joel said, slightly distracted. He was flipping through the phone book in the living room, beside the telephone. "I got places to go tonight anyways."

Sometimes she liked to study her brother when he was concentrated like that. He looked smart when he did, and she knew how uneducated he was when he opened his mouth. They looked a lot alike, Joel and Sophie – both had small, rounded noses and straight, square teeth behind full pink lips. His eyes were small and brown though, and hers were big and grey, and she was the only one in the family with a beauty mark. His face was oval and hers was heart shaped, but when they were little, they were practically twins.

"Where're you going?"

"To deal with some things," Joel answered, "go away, okay? I got a phone call to make."

Sophie threw the rest of her sandwich in the garbage and put her plate in the sink. "Fine, fine. I'm leaving now anyway. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Be careful, an' stay outta trouble."

Ruby's was just down the street, so she made it there in just a few minutes. Mark opened the door when she knocked and ushered her in. He was just leaving, probably over to her house.

"RUBY!" he shouted, then patted Sophie on the shoulder and shut the door behind him.

Ruby and Laura came rushing down the hall, with Dana hot on their heels. Where Ruby was sweet and curvy – with strawberry blonde hair and rosy cheeks, soft features, and round eyes – Dana and Laura were all sharp angles, chestnut brown hair, thin bodies with big chests, long noses and football shaped eyes. They were cousins, but looked a lot more like sisters.

"We got you a dress!" Laura called, out of breath. None of them were in very good shape from how much they smoked and how little physical activity they got. They always skipped gym last year. "Well, we made it, really."

"_You_ made a dress?" Sophie asked, looking at Laura skeptically.

She sighed loudly and roughly and rolled her eyes. "Well, okay, they made it for you. But I picked the material!"

For as often as they skipped gym, Dana and Ruby had never missed a home economics class, and they were always the top of the class in sewing. When they'd all had to make a skirt, theirs were the only ones that actually looked like a skirt. Sophie's had looked like a round dishrag.

"How do you even know my size?"

Ruby grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the bedroom. "Easy: you're a size nothin' with no chest."

Sophie tried to casually glance down her front. She hardly needed a bra, it was only an A cup. "Thanks," she grumbled, feeling all the world like a boy instead of a girl. They were there! She'd tell herself every night. And they had loads of time to grow; she was only fourteen years old.

"Now you jus' sit still right there an' we're gonna work our magic," Dana said, pushing her down on a chair in the middle of the room.

There was a flurry of action around her; clothes being grabbed, curlers being wound into her hair ("hopefully we got enough time for these to work, it's only one, we got a few hours") and makeup brushes and wands being shoved at her face ("open your eyes, now close 'em, now open 'em again and suck in your cheeks").

"This is the dress," Ruby said with a flourish, holding it out in front of her. It was small, short, and only had a thick strap over one shoulder and the other was bare. It was black and covered in silver and purple glitter that sparkled in the light. Then she held up a pair of purple pumps. "An' these."

"I can't walk all the way to Buck's in those!" Sophie protested. "I probably can't walk in those at all, actually."

"Well you got 'til ten o'clock to practice," Laura shouted happily, "so take off those sneakers an' let's go!"

Sophie spent the next few hours wobbling all around Ruby's bedroom and hallway until she got the hang of the heels. She had to admit that she liked how much taller they made her, and they definitely gave her legs a little more womanly definition. And when Dana made her change into the dress, it even gave her a little bit of cleavage.

Her only problem was the makeup.

"I look like a clown," she complained into the bathroom mirror. Her lips were ruby red, eyes thick with liner and smoky grey and purple eye shadow, and there was a thin layer of cover up over her entire face. She'd drawn the line there, and fought tooth and nail when Laura tried to put on more coats.

"You look sexy!" Ruby countered, beginning to take the curlers out of her hair. It worked to an extent – she had some ringlet curls in places, and in others her hair just waved all the way down and curled at the bottom. The effect, Sophie could not deny, was quite nice.

From downstairs, Laura yelled, "Hey! James is gonna give us a ride so hurry up!"

The three girls dashed down the stairs as loud as elephants and ran, giggling and grabbing each other, out to James' beat up old sedan.

Buck Merrill's party was wild by the time the girls got there. Laura and James left them right away, but Sophie, Ruby, and Dana held hands and stayed close to each other as they pushed through the bodies. Terrible country music pumped into their ears and someone almost spilled their beer onto Dana's tiny tube top.

"This is …" Sophie trailed off distastefully. Ruby breathed, "Awesome."

"That's not exactly what I was thinking."

"Oh just try to have fun, will you?" Dana snapped. She grabbed three cans of beer from the fridge – no one ever kept tabs on their alcohol and it was always getting taken if they were stupid enough to put it in Buck's fridge – and passed them out to her friends. Sophie took hers tentatively. She really hadn't planned on drinking … but one couldn't hurt.

After one beer and one hour, feeling a little light-headed and in much higher spirits, Sophie managed to lose Dana and Ruby. Well, she knew exactly where Dana was – making out with James, while Laura was off puking in the bathroom. She never did like James.

"You look a little lost," said a rough voice in her ear. She jumped, her mind conjuring up the image of Tim Shepard through the crowd, pointing straight at Joel and growling at him that everything was off and he better watch out. But when she turned around, it was just Curly, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I am, I guess," she said, and laughed for no reason. "I have no idea where Ruby went."

"Ain't you a little young to be at one a' these?" He put his arm around her shoulder and led her over to an empty and somewhat quiet corner of the room, where there was a small couch for them to sit down on. No one ever went over there because it was behind the speakers, so the music was lower. Sophie was thankful for it.

"I was kind of forced to come," she said, glad that she'd ditched her beer can. For some reason she didn't want him to know she'd been drinking. Like she had an image to uphold. Like she didn't want him to know his words from earlier had actually gotten to her a little bit.

She had makeup on. Not as much as the others girls, but it covered up her face, hiding every little imperfection, every implication that she was just a regular little kid. Curly didn't like it. She looked like the kind of girl Tim would go after, if she was a couple years older. He liked that look. Curly thought it was fake – faker than socs, faker than happiness and the belief that you could be anything more than what you were born into.

He wondered why he'd never seen her around before. Sure, she said she'd been gone for a bit, but that meant she was here before, and Curly didn't think he could forget a face like hers. Not that he liked her, she was just some little chick who didn't belong on the east side, who was too young for him and too innocent and seemed a little too dreamy for his tastes. He bet she liked The Beatles.

But a face like that he didn't think he'd have been able to forget. It was the kind of face that men painted famous pictures of. At least to him. Nobody else seemed to really notice her more than any other chick.

He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he said, "you know shit's goin' down here tonight, right? With Brumly and us. Dangerous place to be." It didn't matter what he was spewing off to her, because she was probably just some little girl who lived in the middle ground between the Shepard's territory and Brumly's, like Ponyboy Curtis' little gang had been before two of them got killed and another two got their draft notice and none of them really felt like fighting anymore.

Sophie stood up a little straighter. "What do you mean? What's going down?"

"Tim's pissed," Curly explained with a chuckle. "An' Brumly don't sound like they're done tryin' to kill everyone they can." Then he cursed them a little, all the while with a smile on his face. He loved it, Sophie could tell. He liked being a hood, liked the fights and the danger, lifting things and jumping kids and not having any money. He was having a good time with it.

"You're kidding," she asked, but Curly didn't hear. People were starting to rush outside, hollering and screeching, and it was just like the Ribbon all over again, except she was still a little tipsy and Ruby, Laura, and Dana were surrounding her all of a sudden, and Curly was gone, and she was being pulled outside to watch the action.

"They're boppin'!" James shouted, coming up behind them. It was kind of sad in a way, that the boys (and the girls sometimes too) of Brumly were the most uneducated greasers on the whole east side. Most of them didn't even go to school anymore, some didn't even start, and those who did go were never at the right grade level.

"Your brother's out there, man," Laura said giddily. "Your brother and Tim Shepard and a couple others! An' there ain't no damn River Kings to stop 'em this time!"

"Joel?" she asked, a little confused. She couldn't run quite as fast because of her stupid shoes, so she bent down and pulled them off and ran bare foot all the way out to the front yard, holding them by the backs in her hand. Now she easily outstripped her friends, and got a good view of the fight.

Both Tim and Joel were bloody and still going at each other. They both liked to play rough but there were no weapons this time, just fists and knees and elbows. Someone beside her was saying to a friend, "they meant to come inside and talk it out, over a drink and whatever, but they didn't make it up the porch."

Mark was in the fight too, along with Joseph Hunter who lived beside Sophie, and whose baby – he'd had one with a girl who'd left it on his porch step and run off – she looked after sometimes for free.

It looked like Shepard had more boys in than Joel did, and her stomach was getting into knots again. She had no clue it was this bad, that people were just jumping into fights all over the place. She didn't even know why Freddy had stabbed that guy the other night, but it was clearly turning into a catalyst for every single fight that anyone ever wanted to have.

That, or Sophie just didn't understand anything.

Then one of Tim's boys pulled out a heater.

"Joel!" Sophie screamed, not being able to hold it in anymore. Tears were starting to spill over her cheeks, and even in the deafening noise of screams, shouts, cries, and cheers, Joel looked straight at his sister, and his face blanched.

The shot rang out before anyone could move, but it didn't hit anyone, just went straight into the ground by Mark's foot. Everyone was dispersing now, and Joel grabbed his sister by the arm and pulled her none-too-gently away, towards his crookedly parked car across the street, half way up the cracked sidewalk. The fight wasn't fun anymore, and everyone wanted to clear out before the cops came or they got hit with a stray bullet.

"What are you doin' here?" Joel demanded, but he sounded more distraught than angry. "You coulda got hurt! I thought you was stayin' at Laura's?"

"I was, but they wanted to come here…" Her explanation sounded silly and she felt out of place, all covered in makeup and a tight dress, playing grown up. She'd dropped the shoes in the crowd and didn't care to go back and get them.

"Things are jus' gonna get worse Sophie, for God's sake why can't you jus' do what you're told."

Curly watched from Tim's left side as the pretty chick – Sophie, he remembered, even in his drunken haze – was pulled away by Freddy's successor. They looked identical. Curly spat into the grass.


	5. foolish games

_You're always the mysterious one with  
>dark eyes and careless hair<br>you were fashionably sensitive  
>but too cool to care<em>

When they got home, Joel started to clean himself up in the sink so Sophie went to take a long, hot shower. As steam poured from underneath the door she scrubbed her face hard with a washcloth, erasing all the hard work her friends had put in trying to make her look like them. But she wasn't like them, she knew. She knew now better than ever. When there was a fight, they laughed and yelled and rushed out to watch. Sophie just wanted to make sure that everyone was okay. She didn't like to dream, knew that they didn't come true, but for a half hour in that scalding shower she let her head drift right up into the clouds. She thought about what it would be like to have some money. To not live in such a rough neighbourhood, in a place where she barely knew the score. She imagined not having to worry about Joel every time he went out from now on, and how it might feel to have new clothes all the time, not hand-me-downs and stuff from second hand shops. She bet no one pressured you to wear makeup and tiny dresses and drink beer when you were a soc. She bet that none of their brothers ever had to be the leader of a gang because the real leader got taken to prison, or had to worry about their brothers coming home beat up, cut up, or worse, just not coming home at all.

Joel banged his fist on the door. "Sophie, you're runnin' up the bill in there."

When she finally came downstairs with her dripping wet hair in a heavy ponytail and her flannel pyjamas on, Joel patted the couch cushion beside him and she sat down and leaned into his side so he'd put his arm around her.

"You gotta be more careful, Soph," he said, hugging her tight and squishing her arms into her sides. "We're all we got left, okay? I can't have you runnin' off all over town at all hours of the night like that. An' you gotta stop lyin' to me."

"I never lie to you," Sophie argued, then amended, "not ever before then."

"Things are gettin' rough. I gotta know where you are. You gotta stay outta any territory that ain't ours, especially now. The Ribbon's okay but if you ain't there you gotta be 'round here."

"I will," Sophie promised, kissing her brother on his rough, unshaved cheek. He smelled like blood and metal.

**x x x**

Curly Shepard leaned back against Scott Bradley's car and took a drag from his cigarette. Scott was popping open his trunk to access the two six-packs of beer he had just for him and Curly and Eric Conners. They were parked in the empty high school parking lot, waiting for a couple others to show up. It was almost two in the morning, and chilly even for early June, but they were all in dark coloured tee shirts and jeans.

It wasn't more Shepard Gang members they were waiting for. Eric and Scott were the only ones Curly really spent any leisure time with; sometimes Dale and Wayne, but not often. Besides, most of them were out on a job with Tim, and since Curly wasn't Tim's co-leader, he wasn't involved at all.

But he had business of his own to attend to. If Tim didn't think Curly could run the gang in his absence, he had another thing coming to him. Out of the darkness came Ponyboy Curtis, his hair long and reddish brown again and all greased back. He was in a sweatshirt and had a lit cigarette in his own hand.

"What do you need, Curly?" Ponyboy asked a little warily when he got close enough. They'd been friends of sorts in the past, before Curly went to the reformatory for a while. He was a good kid, already graduated and working his brother's old job at the DX until he could make enough cash to go to college.

Curly exhaled, aimed at Ponyboy's face. He wanted to prove that he wasn't the kid who played chicken with cigarettes when he was fourteen years old, and Ponyboy was only thirteen, and Tim had lost it when he'd found them. He'd done far worse since then.

He watched Ponyboy coolly for a moment, hoping he would get nervous, but he didn't. He just stared back until Curly spoke.

"I need you to do somethin' for me." He never asked for _favours_ from everyone, because that would imply that either he A) needed help, or B) was going to repay it later. Neither was true. Tim had taught him that. Never rely on anyone but your gang, and even then you should always make sure that you were your own backup plan. You were the only one who couldn't let yourself down.

Ponyboy didn't laugh, but he looked amused. "What do you need from me?"

Curly passed him a folded up piece of paper. "Read it when you get home." Ponyboy started to protest but Curly cut in, "an' I know you're gonna do it so shut your trap an' get goin'."

Ponyboy shrugged. "I saw you with Baker's kid sister earlier," he said, "at the Ribbon. Leave her alone, will ya?"

"Why? You interested?" Curly mocked.

"Nope," Ponyboy replied. He was already dating Cathy anyway. "But I went to school with her. She's nice. Good. You'll just mess her up."

Curly thought of her; how her smile had lit him up like a Christmas tree, just for a second. Then he shrugged back and watched Ponyboy leave in silence.

"D'you really think he's gonna do it?" Eric asked, cracking open his second can.

Curly laughed humourlessly. "No. I think he's gonna rat."

**x x x**

Sophie sat on the couch beside Mark, flipping through _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. She'd already read it through twice, but it'd been sitting on the coffee table and she'd needed an excuse to drop down beside the handsome brother of her best friend. Joel was out for the afternoon and had asked Mark to come keep an eye on Sophie, in case she got sick from what she'd watched or tried to run off somewhere. He wanted her home while he was off responding to a phone call from the youngest Curtis brother, who he'd never talked to before in his life.

Sophie knew him though. They'd played together on the playground sometimes in elementary school, talking about books and stars and his brother Sodapop. But they stopped talking when Ponyboy went into middle school. It was just the way things went.

"Mark," she finally said casually, looking up at him from her book with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes she could muster. "You wouldn't want to let me go down to the park by any chance, would you?" Sometimes she liked to go and sit by the fountain, especially when it was so warm. She knew a kid had been killed there, but kids were killed all over and it didn't make her feel weird. She hadn't been there, hadn't seen it, didn't know Bob Sheldon.

"I ain't lettin' you go nowhere," he replied, "so jus' keep readin' your book."

"But it'd be so much nicer reading it in the fresh air."

"There's fresh air on your front porch."

He had a point. "Fine. I'll be out front then."

She took her book with her out the front door and shut it firmly behind her. Then she sat down, tightened her shoelaces, and pretended to read until she saw Mark peek out from the window to check if she was still there. She waved, and he went to sick back down.

Then she left her book in front of the door and jumped down the warped wooden steps, landing on her feet and hands in a crouch. Then she booked it down the street, running like her life depended on it, towards the elementary school playground. Thinking about Ponyboy had made her want to spend a little time on the monkey bars, a tangle of faded rainbow-coloured metal bars in a high swing shape set, with four big loops underneath that were fun to sit on if you could climb up the bars.

The elementary school was on the Shepard Gang's territory, but she couldn't imagine that it would matter that much. They couldn't exactly lay claim to a _school_, could they? Besides, she'd never done anything to them. She'd even had a couple pretty nice conversations with Curly, as far as things like that went.

It was well past midnight, around two o'clock, maybe later. The sky was pitch black and the stars were twinkling down on her, and she couldn't help but think of Curly's eyes. She wondered if Tim's eyes looked that way too, or if his were somehow harder and rougher.

It wasn't strange for her to be out so late. She'd changed out of her pyjamas right when Joel had left, into the clothes Mark had brought back over from Ruby's bedroom, plus the only hooded sweater she owned. They weren't popular with girls yet, mainly blacks and criminals, but Joel had given her this one and it was big, warm, and very comfortable, even though it was a couple sizes too big and she could pull it all the way down over her butt.

The playground was empty. The only noise was hers, when the ends of her shoelaces clinked against the metal of the monkey bars as she huffed and puffed her way up after exhaling warm breath on her hands to make them stickier on the bars. When she sat down on the middle right loop, she was five feet off the ground and feeling wide awake. She'd been having trouble falling asleep for the past couple days, ever since the stabbing, and was trying everything she could think of to tire herself out before bed: staying up later, going out for runs, dancing to records, even eating a lot. She didn't even feel buzzed from the beer anymore.

"Lookin' for company, Baker?"

Curly Shepard had appeared out of nowhere, pulling himself up onto the loop beside her using nothing but his arms. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

"You probably shouldn't be here," Sophie cautioned a little sarcastically. The jig was up – he knew who she was. Just a few days ago she wouldn't have thought that it mattered. Now she knew better. "Don't think your brother would like it much."

"Tim don't like nothin' much," Curly said, lighting a cigarette and dropping the match on the grass. It was true – the only thing Tim seemed to light was fights, girls who only stayed for one night, and his gang. Curly never wanted to be that cold. But he couldn't lie to himself that this was only a social visit.

"You seen your brother lately?" he asked innocently.

Sophie perked. "Yeah, like a half hour ago. How come?"

"Just checkin'."

"He went to meet with Ponyboy Curtis," Sophie insisted. "He's not doing anything." She couldn't believe he was coming here trying to incriminate her brother. This wasn't Brumly business, it was business man-to-man.

"I ain't sayin' nothin'," Curly shrugged.

"You better not be."

He grinned. "You're a feisty chick." But he didn't make a move on her. Tim would flip his lid, and besides, he might not be book smart, but he wasn't completely brain dead. He knew how he'd be received, and it wasn't worth it.

She squinted at him a little. "And you're weird, Curly Shepard." Then she swung down from the loop. "I gotta get going."

"Let me walk you," Curly offered. "You're on Shepard land anyways. Could be dangerous."

"You really don't have to," she protested, but he shrugged again and jumped down beside her. She gave up and let him follow along. A part of her was kind of giddy inside that a boy wanted to walk her home, no matter who the boy was. No one had ever done that for her before unless he'd been made to by Joel, which didn't exactly make her feel too special.

"You're a lot nicer than Tim, aren't you?" Sophie guessed, watching her feet. Curly chuckled.

"Nah. Well, sometimes. We ain't that different." That wasn't entirely true. If Tim had seen Sophie there on her own, he'd probably have done a lot worse than make a few cracks and offer to walk her home. Especially since Curly had already gotten the information that he came looking for. She was a nice chick to be around sometimes, though – in private. She didn't act tough or swear a lot, like she had nothing to prove to anyone. And she covered up, which was a cool change as well, even if her sweater looked kind of ridiculous.

He just wanted people to think he was like Tim though. That's why he jumped people and carried a knife or pipe or chain. It's why he acted so coolly towards everything and tried not to show any real emotions about anything too much. He was only eighteen but he tried to act twenty-five. He wanted to prove that he was just as good as Tim, and that he could take over the gang in Tim's absences.

"I think you are," Sophie said softly, more to herself than him. And what did she know? She didn't know a thing about him – a thing about anything. She was the worst greaser he'd ever met. It was like she didn't even know she was one.

"Ain't your ma gonna be worried, you out so late?" His head was still spinning a little from the beers he'd had with Scott and Eric, plus the ones at Buck's so many hours ago, but he could walk and talk steady still. It took a lot to put Curly out these days.

"No, but my brother might," she joked.

"Nah. I think he's gonna kick my head in though, for hangin' 'round his baby sister." The idea gave Curly a bit of a thrill. Not getting kicked in, but pissing off Joel Baker. It'd been his damn leader that'd killed Curly's buddy, after all. The kid had only been seventeen. Sure, maybe he'd been asking for a beating, but no one asked for that. It was a little hard for Curly to wrap it around his head that Sophie was even Joel's sister. They were so different … she was so out of it.

"My place is right up there," Sophie said, pointing. He couldn't tell which one, they all looked the same. "You should probably go now. You're already way over on Brumly side."

Curly shrugged – he had a habit of doing so – and flicked his cigarette on the ground, didn't even bother stubbing it out. Sophie did it for him. She didn't like the idea that some poor cat might come burn its nose or something.

"See you 'round then," he said, and winked.

Sophie's stomach did a bit of a flip when he said that. Did that mean he'd try to, or that they just seemed to bump into each other a lot? He really was quite good looking …

"Yeah, we'll see," she said, trying to be playful. She considered hugging him for a second, just a spur of the moment reaction, but before she could build up the nerve he'd turned around and walked off. Probably for the better, too. What the hell was she thinking, planning to _hug_ a Shepard? You didn't just go around _hugging people _on the east side.

Maybe she really was as naïve as everyone always said.

Joel wasn't home by the time she got back, but Mark was still there, and he was fuming.

"Oh please don't tell," Sophie begged, grabbing onto his arm. "I just went for a walk! I didn't even see anyone."

"And why ain't I gonna tell him?" Mark asked, almost shouting. "You lied to me an' jus' ran off. You coulda gotten killed!"

"But I didn't!" Sophie said quickly. "Not even close! Please, he's got enough to worry about. Please don't tell him."

"Don't tell me what?"

She hadn't even heard the door open or close, but there was Joel with his arms crossed.

"Sophie smashed the milk bottle," Mark made up poorly.

Joel looked back and forth between the two, before he said, "Sophie, up to bed. Get."

She got.

On the way up to bed she could hear Joel asking what really happened, and silently prayed that Mark wouldn't open his big mouth and rat her out. If he did, she'd be locked inside her bedroom until September, and grounded to the house for the entire school year after. She'd promised she wouldn't lie to Joel anymore, but he hadn't said a thing about Mark.

**x x x**

Once Curly passed the boundary line – a street called Weston – he slowed down to a casual stride. He was in no rush, knowing that Tim and Angela would still be out and his own mom and step-dad would be in bed. Then in the morning there'd be screaming and fighting, Jack accusing their mom about being a no-good whore who let her kids run wild, and _look what it had gotten her,_ a couple of hoods with their own damn gang and a married drop-out daughter. Then everyone would throw some things and Jack would leave for work, Angela would run off before her husband came around looking for her, and he'd have to find a way to fill another day, because Tim didn't value him as much as a gang member as he did as his brother, and hardly trusted him with anything.

But he'd prove him wrong. It was already working. It was only a matter of time. Even if it meant Sophie would never talk to him again – which before hadn't seemed like anything at all. But now … well, maybe he could spare her. Maybe he could keep her from it.

Maybe he was going soft.


	6. wounded

_I don't even think anyone is reading this. I have some more chapter written, but no one reviews and no one's even put it on their watch list or anything. So until I actually know that people are reading it and I'm not just wasting all my time, I'm gonna stop updating it for a little bit. If you like the story, if you don't like it, if there's a part you really loved or a part you thought was silly or really ooc, just tell me. I don't even care if it's good or bad. If it's bad that means I'll be able to fix whatever I'm messing up and if it's good that'll make me feel good, that I'm writing something someone actually cares about. So review or something, anything. I just wanna know that I'm not wasting my time writing for an audience of zero._

* * *

><p><em>The guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me<br>and the bruises that you feel will heal and I hope you come around  
>'cause we're missing you<em>

In the early morning, Joel Baker got dressed, left a note for his sister, and peeled out of the driveway before seven o'clock. He had a bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat, and his cleanest long-sleeve tee shirt on. He drove calmly into town, passing by the empty schools, the quiet Ribbon, and even though into Shepard territory. Today he wasn't a gang leader. He wasn't a greaser. He wasn't a JD. He was Joel William Baker, and he was going to see his sister.

He parked in the back of the lot, so no one would see his car and key it or slash the tires. He just wasn't in the mood. Nobody looked at him as he walked around to the entrance and through the cold glass doors. The sun hadn't had time to warm anything up yet, and the hairs rose on the back of his neck. Besides, this place always made him nervous.

At the front counter he said, "I'm here to see Robin Baker."

"Follow me, please," the nurse said, and led him through to the common room, where all the patients who were allowed spent their free time. They wandered aimlessly in their robes and blue pants, or played chess, drew, read books. Robin was all alone in the corner in front of the big grand piano. She wouldn't touch the keys though.

"Hey Robbie," Joel said softly, sliding in next to the girl. She was all skin and bones and long messy hair, brown like his. Her eyes were huge and grey like Sophie's though, and looking at them broke his heart. It could have been both of them in here. If Tim hadn't come by in time, if she'd been awake, it would have been.

Robin didn't say a word, but rested her head on his lap and curled up like a cat. She was so small, only nine years old. He almost choked on the lump forming in his throat, but nothing would make him cry in front of all these people. He didn't cry. Ever.

He petted her hair as he rambled off on everything that had been going on. He told her how ma was okay, but she wasn't allowed visitors right now. She was in a special part of the hospital, just for drug cases. He hadn't even known something like that existed, didn't know they had special places for every kind of crazy, until he'd had to bring his mother and his tiny baby sister here.

Joel talked about Freddy going to the slammer again – but not why – and how things were bad with the Shepards now. He told her that Sophie had come home, and maybe sometime she'd come too, maybe next week when he came back again.

Then at ten o'clock, when Robin still wouldn't say a word, a nurse suggested he leave. He kissed Robin on the top of her head, and was home in time to wake up Sophie by cooking up pancakes and bacon in the kitchen.

She came downstairs in her pyjamas; hair sticking out at all angles from her ponytail. It wouldn't have a ponytail bump in the back when she took it out though, because her hair was so thick and heavy that it only held the curls from her curlers for a few hours at best. Nothing stuck, and it just fell in its own waves and curls and straight bits however it felt like.

"Good mornin', Sleepin' Beauty," he greeted her, ruffling her hair up even more. She swatted at his hand.

"Since when do you make breakfast?" She didn't even know he could cook.

"I used to make it all the time," he shrugged, flipping the pancakes onto plates. "You just slept through it."

"Liar." She nudged him in the back before grabbing one of the plates, picking some bacon out of the pan with tongs, and going to sit at the kitchen table. "Someone taught you."

He just grinned and sat down across from her to flood his plate with syrup and scarf everything down in two minutes.

"So what did Ponyboy Curtis want?" she asked, eating her bacon before she poured syrup on her pancakes. She didn't like when it all got mixed up.

Sophie didn't know why she called him by his full name whenever she mentioned him. It's not like anyone would go, "Ponyboy who?" or "which Ponyboy?" There was only one, and everyone knew who he was because it was his buddy who had killed that soc Bob.

Joel's face clouded over. "Oh yeah. That."

"Did I say something wrong?" Sophie asked, and Joel realized that she really was totally oblivious to what had gone down. She didn't know anything about their meeting, or the note he had, or who had given it to him. She didn't know a thing.

Sophie was just naïve. She didn't know the score, didn't dig very well at all. Joel had kept her hidden and protected from it for so long, and then she'd gone off to somewhere nice and she had no clue how things worked. It was all his fault, and she was going to get all tangled up in the middle of it without even understanding why.

So he just said, "Stay away from Curly Shepard, alright? He ain't safe."

"I don't spend time with any Shepards!" she denied, because it was true, to a point. He always came around her, and walking her home didn't really count as _hanging out_ or anything.

Joel sighed. She was still lying, even after she promised him he wouldn't She was growing up, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Well jus' don't, in the future or ever," he warned anyway.

"Is Mark coming over to babysit again today?" she asked glumly. Joel chuckled.

"Nah. I gotta go to work at twelve an' I trust you to watch where you're goin'. Last night was jus' messy is all."

"Gotcha," said Sophie, winking and saluting.

**x x x**

Tim Shepard flicked his cigarette butt out the open window. No one was home – which was rare – and it was deadly quiet. He didn't like the quiet. He liked action and his buddies, even when everyone was hollering and throwing things because at least it was something. He couldn't just sit and watch TV like Curly, or sit and listen to records and read magazines like Angela.

He thought about Tommy sometimes. How he hadn't been able to get in the middle fast enough and stab that Brumly boy first. How all his boys were blowing up now because Tim was making them wait. He wanted to make Baker nervous, put him on edge, then attack when he was least suspecting it. He didn't want his boys going and trying to shoot anyone, like last night. That just wasn't the way Tim did things, and boy howdy did he get a working over when Tim caught up with him. His face was all brown and yellow from bruises.

He really didn't like this fight with Brumly, not one bit. They'd always had each other's backs in the past. The last rumble they had together – the night that Dallas Winston died – they'd moved like a unit, all of them together, and they'd won. Dally was the only casualty that night. Tim still didn't like to think about that one so much.

Not to mention he and Baker had history. When it'd been Freddy he was on the fence with – the treaty never meant much anyway – it was just a gang feud, nothing more. But he'd helped Baker, and hadn't even asked for a thing in return, and this is how he was being repaid. Baker was fighting back like it hadn't been his gang to start this shit in the first place.

Bunch of uneducated hoods, the lot of them. They didn't even understand how things worked.

Curly slammed the screen door shut behind him, bringing in all the hot afternoon air. Tim rounded on him and smacked him so hard in the head that it sent him reeling.

"What the hell d'you think you're doin'?" he demanded over Curly's low string of curses. "Sendin' notes to that Curtis kid, walkin' on the Brumly side of town – don't you use your head?"

"I was walkin' Baker's sister home!" Curly defended himself, no shame at all. "She was on our side at the school an' I figured she might get in trouble."

Sophie Baker, for God's sake. That kid was more trouble than she was worth. He hadn't even seen her face for years, didn't know if he'd recognize her if he did, didn't want to find out.

"An' what about that shit you're pullin' with Curtis?"

Curly had the gall to smirk about that. "Gettin' Baker riled up, that's all."

Tim punched him in the stomach. He treated his brother no different than the rest of his boys when it came to gang matters, and this was a big one, and he just couldn't hold back, couldn't control his temper. His stupid kid brother was going to throw everything off the tracks. There was no doubt in his mind why Curly wasn't next in line to take over, with stunts like this.

"Leave it to me, Curly, I told you," Tim growled. "Don't go pullin' shit again."

He didn't even want to know how Curly knew what he knew, to put it in that note for Curtis. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe he thought he knew something else entirely. But Tim wasn't going to take any chances. That was something he wasn't willing to mess around with, no matter how much he wanted a rumble.

**x x x**

Sophie waved goodbye to her brother before rushing upstairs to wash her hair again and put on a clean pair of shorts and a floral blouse. She wasn't much for skirts, because one gust of wind or a little slip here and everything was out in the open.

Then she called Ruby – no answer. Nothing at Laura's or Dana's either, so they were probably going around with boys, Sophie guessed. Nobody had invited her along in elementary school when they spent time with guys, and they sure weren't going to do it now. They liked to drink and dress up and make out, and maybe even go all the way, and Sophie just wasn't interested. Brumly boys were idiots generally speaking, and she wanted to be with someone who was _going places_, so one day she could go places too.

Her paint nail polish was chipping badly, so she picked at it while she walked down the street, bright, hot sunshine beating down on her. What had started as a cool morning was now turning out to be one of the hottest days of June, and it was only noon and the month had barely started.

She was out hunting for something to do. Her plan was to head towards the Ribbon, and if she hadn't found her friends by then (or Mark, who could probably tell her where Ruby was) then she'd head on into Hogan's for a burger. She had started eating better now, already getting over the shakes and stomach-clenching she got from the stabbing. She'd seen fights before and if her brother or Mark wasn't involved – who was like a brother to her too – she was hardly fazed. She didn't like them, but they didn't give her shakes and sleeplessness.

Sophie was half way to the Ribbon when an old sedan pulled up beside her, and Tim Shepard leaned his head out the window a little.

"You need a ride?" he asked. She stopped short, not sure what to do. Part of her said to say no and run as fast as she could, but she was hot and dizzy, and she'd known Tim when she was little. He'd hung around a bit, before there was ever tension between Brumly and the Shepard Gang.

Joel would have chewed her out 'til she was senseless for it, but her legs really were tired, so she headed around to the other side of his car and got in.

"Thanks Tim, I'm just headed to Hogan's." Her voice was a little shaky and she slid as close to the door as she could get, but he wasn't giving off any creepy, menacing vibes. Sure, he was the scariest guy she'd ever looked at though, with his thrice-broken nose and big scar, and dark angry eyes and the set of his jaw. He'd spent so much time in jail, and seeing things no one should ever really see, that he was hard as steel. Harder and angrier and more violent than Dallas Winston even, who had enough emotion left to kill himself in the end.

Sophie had met Dallas Winston on only one occasion, and he'd scared her. Tim Shepard was worse. She was already starting to regret this, but he was rolling down the street and it was too late to say no.

"You ever try Jay's before?" he asked conversationally.

"Nope," she replied, "Joel doesn't go there, so I never have."

"You should, it's better than Hogan's, the greasy –" and he went on with a string of curses about how greasy the place really was. "Here, I'll take you, okay?"

And because she was too wary to ever say no to Timothy Shepard, Sophie said, "Sure. Might as well."


	7. wipe that smile off your face

_I got two lovely reviews from one lovely reader, who knows who they are, and I thank you a thousand times. This chapter is dedicated to you, and it's up because of your very nice reviews that I loved :)_

* * *

><p><em>It's just the two of us, a silver cross, and some strength that you won't believe<br>see, I'm not your friend, and I won't pretend that I've come here for peace  
>well I'm not afraid, I'm gonna make you pay, I'm gonna wipe that smile off your face<br>and this is war, and I'm gonna wipe that smile off your face_

He had recognized her, and easily. She was still so small and fragile looking, like one wrong move would break her into pieces. And she was the spitting image of Joel. Tim didn't know how he could have imagined forgetting a face like hers – the upper lip so much thinner than the lower one, and thin cheeks, soft nose. When she was little she used to suck in her upper lip when she slept, like a little pout. He'd still been friends with Baker back then, before he had even started his gang. Before they were ever really a big deal to two kids.

She was scared to death of him, and it made him want to laugh a little. What had she heard about him, that he went around knifing people for fun and jumping everyone in sight? No, that was Curly, and she hardly seemed bothered by him. Then, Curly was just reckless. Not dangerous. He didn't have Tim's cool head – or temper, oppositely – and he hadn't been in the cooler quite as often. He didn't run a unit. Maybe this girl was right to be scared, because Tim was practically emotionless half the time, unless he was hacked off.

Tim didn't really plan on taking the little Baker to Jay's, but it was a spur of the moment decision. He wanted to see what Curly was all over himself about this chick for, because Curly didn't just walk Brumly girls home – on Brumly turf – every day. Not to mention that if Baker or any of his buddies were on the Ribbon, it'd get a nice little rise out of them, which wasn't too bad if you weren't setting out to do it intentionally, like Curly had.

"I ain't gonna kill ya," he finally said when she'd been silent for a while, but never taking her eyes off him. They were huge and grey, took up her whole face, but weren't all that remarkable. Tim had always been bored by grey eyes; they had no life in them, no lively dancing colour. He liked chicks with green eyes.

She said, "I didn't think you were going to," real calm. But by the rigid way she was sitting, it was just a show.

"Where'd ya learn to talk like that, hey?" By middle school they usually already picked up smoking and slouching and bad language and makeup – he bet she'd look real good in makeup. Most chicks did. He knew a couple girls like her, mostly kids but there were some who renounced everything about the east side, didn't think that where you came from had anything to do with who you were. They were stuck up though, and wore nice clothes and planned on getting out of Tulsa one day. Tim didn't like those chicks, because he, for one, was proud of where he came from and what it had made him. You didn't become the toughest cat on the streets by dreaming.

Sophie was a little surprised he'd asked. She didn't think he was at all curious about her, didn't think he even really realized that she was in his car, he was so lost in his own thoughts. But she didn't take her eyes off him, just in case this was just some plan to get back at Joel – and in extension, Freddy – and he was planning on shooting her through the head or something. His boys carried heaters, so she guessed he did too. Everyone had weapons nowadays, worse than ever, because they had worse things than rich kids to protect themselves against now. She didn't have a thing because Joel said no one went after girls, and if they did, well she knew how to break a bottle right. Laura and Dana carried blades, but Ruby didn't have one so Sophie didn't feel so out of it.

"I went to school in California for a bit," she said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. She and Joel never really talked about their father – most people thought he was dead – so people chalked up Joel's car and the new clothes they sometimes got to fortune and government checks. The truth was though; they didn't get a cent from the government, just Joel's cheques and their dad's pity money, which neither of them was too proud to take, as long as word didn't get out. They really needed it.

Tim nodded in an uninterested kind of way. So she was just like those chicks who thought they were too good for the east side. Figured – it was always the cute ones who wanted to go somewhere.

**x x x**

Curly had woken up late, his stomach smarting a little. Tim hit hard, even when he didn't mean to – and he'd meant to. His head was sore from a hangover too, so he dragged himself to the kitchen and made a cup of instant coffee. His step-father was at work and God knew where his mother had gotten to, since she didn't have a job. Angela, however, was sitting at the kitchen table filing her long fingernails.

"That's disgustin'," Curly muttered, rubbing his eyes while the water heated. He scoured around in the ice box for some breakfast but came out with nothing. They never had a thing, no wonder they were all so skinny. You couldn't tell on Tim and Curly because they built up their muscles great, but Angela was so thin you could almost see her ribs. But now that she was married, she was getting fed a little more often over at his place.

"You're disgustin'," Angela shot back. She was only sixteen, two years younger than he was, but she'd dropped out when she thought she was pregnant. Curly was planning on going back again – not because he wanted to, but because Tim told him to. Even though he was still a junior at eighteen.

Curly sat down across the table from her to drink his coffee out of a chipped old mug; already planning to walk over to Scott's and get him to drive up to Jay's for some food. Scott never went anywhere on his own and he'd been drunker than Curly, so he would probably be around somewhere close.

"Where'd Tim get off to?"

Angela shrugged. "I ain't his keeper." But she told him anyway. "He said he was goin' up to see Freddy or sometin'."

That just didn't make sense to Curly. "Why would he go up an' see a Brumly boy who killed Tommy?"

Angela, forever unhelpful, shrugged, and said, "You wanna take me up to the drugstore?"

"In what, Angel? I ain't got a car." He left his half-full coffee mug on the table and stormed out.

He found Eric just a few blocks away, washing his car.

"You wanna give Angel a ride to the drugstore?" Curly asked, leaning against a dry spot. He really didn't feel like going off looking for Tim anymore, but it would be nice to have the house to himself for a bit.

Eric handed him a cigarette. "No, but I'll do it anyways. You hear 'bout Jenny?"

Jenny Parks was Curly's ex-girlfriend, and the only one he'd really given a damn about. They'd broken up a while ago, she'd left him saying he was too stupid and dangerous for her. That was the name of the game lately: Curly Shepard, the stupid JD. He knew he was dumb, he didn't need people reminding him all the time.

Eric said, "She was hangin' 'round that Mark guy, from Brumly. They was gettin' real nice and cosy, too."

**x x x**

Joel leaned back against the wall, one leg stretched out off the side of his bed and the other knee-up to rest his elbow on. Between his fingers was a cigarette. He never used to smoke inside, but he had the window open and it wasn't like Sophie wasn't around smokers all the time anyway these days. All her friends did it.

He'd pulled an old photograph from a desk drawer and was studying it carefully, trying to figure out when everything had fallen apart. This was out in front of their row house; it hadn't been all that great then, but better than it was now. His dad and ma were hugging, looking at each other all happy and loving. Ma was pregnant, almost ready to pop.

Sophie was five-going-on-six, and had a big grin with all her baby teeth. She'd lost them pretty late. So had Joel, though – he was nine, with his arms around his sister, and about four teeth missing. He'd had freckles back then, but they were gone now.

It was after Robin had been born, that's when dad became unhappy, Joel decided. He hadn't wanted a third baby because he knew we couldn't afford it. He'd left when Robin turned two. When she was three, the accident happened. Sophie was about eight, and didn't remember a thing. And he hadn't even been there to help them.

He didn't know the guys who did it, no one did. A couple out of guys in their late twenties, from Texas. They were real rough guys. That night Sophie was yelling because Joel was telling her that she was too young to do anything, so ma said that she could go and pick up Robin from daycare then. That was back before Shepard even had a gang, so going all the way to elementary school – where they had daycares in the summer – wasn't a big deal, especially for an eight year old kid on the east side. No one touched kids, really, not little girls. Well that's what Joel was counting on – ma was flying on pills at the time. Just before her breakdown.

After two hours, and Sophie and Robin weren't home yet, Joel had gone out looking for them. That's when he ran into Tim Shepard, down by one of the rivers in the tall grass, covered in blood. The Texans were on the ground beside him, dead. They'd been stabbed. And Robin was naked and had big scared eyes and wasn't crying but trembling something awful. Sophie's clothes were all ripped off too but Tim said, "I got 'em before they did nothin' to her, but Robbie man, I couldn't … They'd already …" He was only fifteen. They didn't tell anyone about them, just hauled their bodies into the river and took Robin and Sophie home.

They never told anyone else, either. It was their secret. Not long after ma was in the hospital, in the crazy hospital, and Robin followed right after. Sophie didn't know a thing, she'd passed out from the pain of her arm being broken in three spots, and when she woke up they just told her she'd tripped. She didn't have a clue, and neither of them ever wanted her to find out. And Joel knew that – he knew Tim wasn't that low, of all the things Shepard was. He still had honour, and that was more than most guys could say, because he kept his word.

So what the hell did that note from Curly mean?

**x x x**

Tim offered to pay, so Sophie just ordered a 7-Up and some fries. He tried to get her to order more, saying she needed to try their burgers if anything, but when she said no he shrugged and ordered himself two of them.

It was weird, sitting and eating in the car with Tim Shepard like nothing was wrong with it. He talked about some stuff, although it was mostly chicks or cars or fights, staying away from the serious stuff. Sophie told him a little bit about California and that she was heading into high school in September, but that was about it.

"High school? Ain't you too young for that? What are you, twelve?"

Sophie flushed, less from embarrassment and more from anger, though she'd never explode on Tim Shepard unless she got bored of living. Joel used to tease her about being too young for things. About being too little. It drove her mad.

"I'm fourteen. My birthday's in December."

"Yeah? We should throw you a birthday party," Tim said, pleasantly sarcastic.

Right, stupid, Sophie scolded. Why would he give a hang about my birthday?

"Yeah, Curly's still in high school," Tim said, staring out the windshield, his eyes glazed over a little like he wasn't really looking at anything. "He's doin' junior year again. As if that dumb hood is ever gonna get out." Then he really focused on Sophie. "I hear you been spendin' some time with him."

"He walked me home once," Sophie mumbled, trying to keep eye contact but failing. He had beautiful eyes just like his brother, like the sea at midnight. Like a storm. "We don't hang out or anything."

He grinned a little. "I don't care what you do, if you're hangin' 'round him. It's your brother who's gonna care."

"It's none of Joel's business what I do," she said defiantly, but she really hadn't been planning on seeing Curly again. Nor had she planned on ever talking to Tim in her life, because he scared her half to death, but here she was in his car eating food he bought her.

"You ought to come 'round an' see him sometime," Tim mentioned lazily. "Curly, I mean. He ain't got very good lookin' company most the time."

"I can't," Sophie replied, instantly confused. She didn't even bother asking what he meant or why he thought she'd want to go to his house. "I can't go on Shepard territory." Those were his rules, weren't they? Wasn't he the one who called off their treaty-deal thing?

Tim shrugged. "Yeah well … you okay to walk home? I got some business."

"Oh." She was still a little mixed up when she pushed open his car door and got out. A cop watched her with his eyes squinted, but lost interest when Tim zipped off without even saying goodbye.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Sophie sighed, throwing her garbage into a can and heading back off the Ribbon on foot. Well, her plan had been to walk there and back anyway, so at least she got some free food and a ride one way, even if her company had been Tim Shepard, who was confusing as all hell. His conversation topics jumped around so much that, if she didn't know any better – but she did know better, because at fourteen you thought you knew everything – she would have sworn he was nervous.

**x x x**

The little old sedan ripped its way up the hill towards the prison – he really needed to trade Buck Merrill for his hot little T-Bird. If they were moving Freddy anywhere he wouldn't be gone yet, it had only been a couple days and there was a lot of paperwork in that. Tim knew, he'd gone through it and so had Curly once even. That didn't mean they'd let him talk to Freddy though. He'd killed a guy after all, and he probably wasn't behaving too great.

When he got up there though, the guard just shrugged. "He's out on bail, posted a few days ago. Green's trial isn't until July."

He was in for stabbing someone, and he was out on bail? Tim's blood began to boil.

As if reading his mind the guard explained, "they considered it a gang war and didn't think he was a real threat to the public."

Well he was a threat to Tim's public, all right. He left the station fuming, doing forty over the speed limit down the hill, heading for home. The next person to even look at him funny was getting the jumping of his life, and he needed to call Baker.

It was just Curly's luck that he was back when Tim got home. He'd manage to find a ride for Angela, but didn't really want to go looking for Tim himself and he'd found a dented can of soup at the very back of the cupboard to warm up on the stove. Then he just sat around and watched TV until his brother came storming in, looking madder than hell, ready to kill someone.

"Freddy called," Curly said, not bothering to take caution. He figured Tim wanted to hear what he had to say. "I told him you was out. An' I need to borrow your car."

"You don't need a damn thing," Tim growled, heading for the phone. Curly stepped in front of it.

"Angel said you was goin' up to see him in the cooler. Why you goin' to see Freddy, Tim? You know it was him who killed Tommy, right?" Curly couldn't explain it, but he was in a mood to fight, and wanted to rile his brother, like pulling the tail of an irritated lion. Maybe it was because of the beating Tim had given him. Maybe it was because Tim thought he was too stupid to do anything right and wouldn't trust him with anything. Maybe he was just feeling a little suicidal today. After all, it wasn't every day that the only girl you thought you'd cared about turned her back on her whole side – because the girls had sides too, even if they weren't in the gangs or the fights – and go after goddamn Mark Butler. He wished Eric hadn't said a thing.

Curly took the first swing, didn't even bother waiting for Tim to start it. He got a good hit, right on Tim's jaw, but he was on his back on the floor in a second and Tim was laying into him like he could beat all the stars in the sky right out of his ears. Curly tried to land a few more hits but only caught Tim's sides, and not very hard, because his arms were pinned a bit and he was getting dizzy.

When Curly began to think it would never end and his brother was going to beat him to death, Tim abruptly got up and went over to the phone. Curly stayed on the floor, bleeding out of his nose, with his eye already starting to swell a little and turn colour. His ears were ringing but he could hear Tim clearly anyway.

"The vacant lot, midnight tomorrow. Just me and you and Freddy and Russell, Baker."

Then he hung up and hollered at Curly, "Get your ass off that floor, we're goin' to find Russell."


	8. thank you, stars

_Some call it faith, some call it love  
>some call it guidance from above<br>you are the reason we found ours  
>so thank you, stars<em>

Russell Hadley was a twenty-two year old hood who had graduated high school, gone to community college for a little while, and was now the manager of the DX Gasoline Station on the east side. He was also the second-best fighter than the Shepard Gang had, next to Tim, and never pulled weapons in a predetermined skin fight. And that's what Tim wanted. He wasn't out for blood, not this time. Not yet. But he had to do something.

**x x x**

Sophie walked all the way home and then some, and took Ruby's front steps all at once in an almighty leap that she didn't land very gracefully. Mark answered the door for her, a cigarette hanging from his dark lips. He was a real tan guy, Mark Butler. And he was looking at her like she'd just set off the atomic bomb.

"Your brother may believe you, Sophia Baker, but I ain't that dumb," he said, stepping out onto the porch with her and shutting the door. "I saw you up on the Ribbon with Tim Shepard. You wanna tell me what in the Sam Hill you were doin'?"

"He just gave me a ride!" Sophie cried, a little more emotional than she needed to be. But you couldn't lie to Mark the way you could to Joel, or anyone else. It spun her head when Ruby did it so easily. Maybe it was just easy to lie to your own family. Not to mention that Mark just seemed to be everywhere if you were doing something you weren't supposed to be – he was omnipresent.

"An' I suppose you didn't think to say, _why no Tim Shepard, I don't wanna go to Jay's with you I'll jus' keep walkin'_, did you?"

Mark got on her case just as much as Joel, but it didn't bug her so much in the long run. It was nice to have people who cared about you, even if it was annoying sometimes and they worried over stupid little things.

"I won't do it again, Mark, I promise," she swore.

He looked at her evenly for a minute before pulling her in for a hug. It surprised her a little because she definitely hadn't been expecting it, but she hugged him back anyway.

"Tim Shepard is dangerous, Sophie," he said softly. "You gotta start takin' this seriously an' bein' more careful."

"You won't tell Joel, will you?" she mumbled into his shirt. His laugh rumbled his whole chest against her ear.

"I ain't gonna tell Joel if you never do it again." Then he let me go, stubbed out his cigarette, and said, "Ruby's in her room. Go on in."

He didn't follow.

Ruby had been Sophie's best friend for as long as she cared to remember, all the way back to the beginning of elementary school. She trusted Ruby with her life, and every single one of her secrets. So when Sophie shut the bedroom door behind her and put on a record, Ruby knew it was time to share.

"Your brother caught me out on the porch," Sophie said, flopping down on the bed. Ruby was sitting at her desk, painting her fingernails bright red. She had her hair in curlers too, which meant that she was going out with someone tonight.

"Oh yeah, what about?" She turned around on the chair and blew on her nails to help them dry faster. She hadn't gotten any on her skin, which was impressive. Even though all the paint had come off her fingernails, there were still some light black streaks on Sophie's skin.

"Well," Sophie squirmed a little uncomfortably, "I went to Jay's with Tim Shepard a couple hours ago …"

Ruby squealed, "WHAT? Tell me everything!"

**x x x**

Tim leaned against the counter in the DX station, looking Ponyboy Curtis straight in the eyes. The kid had sure grown up from the skinny, sick kid he'd rumbled with. He looked angrier, harder; he sure wasn't a dreamer anymore.

"I'm lookin' for Russell," Tim said. "He here?"

Ponyboy said, "Just a minute," and went off into the garage to find him.

Curly hung back, checking out in face in the reflection from the soda coolers in the back. He couldn't tell if he looked tuff or just banged up; his eye was all black and bruised but only swollen up a little bit, he had a split lip, and there was a cut beside his nose. He'd cleaned the blood off before he left with Tim but his cuts were still fresh and wouldn't stop bleeding a little bit.

Russell came around the counter to talk to Tim quietly. Curly watched him check out the bruise on Tim's jaw, then he looked at Curly and almost started laughing. Curly just flipped him the bird and went outside to light up a smoke. They didn't let you smoke in the DX for some stupid reason.

He was pissed, and the cigarette was hopefully going to calm him down. Why did he have to go with Tim all over the damn city just to find Russell for a fight that Curly wasn't even involved in? Like he gave a damn whether Tim found him or not.

Ponyboy walked up behind Curly and lit up his own cigarette. Boy, but that kid smoked a lot. Not that Curly should be talking, because he almost always had a smoke in his hand.

"No one's gonna respect you if they find out what you did," he said quietly, looking up at the sky and squinting his eyes against the sun. "Holdin' somethin' like that over someone's head."

Curly shrugged. "No one respects me anyways."

Ponyboy stubbed his cigarette out and went back inside.

Tim came out a few minutes later and put his hand on Curly's shoulder to steer him towards the sedan.

**x x x**

Joel looked critically at his best friend, who was leaned over the kitchen sink splashing water on his face. Without air conditioning it got real hot inside in the summer. He was taller than Joel, with nicely tanned skin and dark hair and eyes. In the winter he paled out a little bit, but in the summer he almost looked Spanish.

"You wanna take the girls out tonight?" he finally asked.

Mark shook the water out of his long bangs – he didn't grease his hair back, said he didn't like how it felt and how heavy it was – and cocked an eyebrow at Joel. It didn't look very attractive, almost like he had to try really hard just to do it. "What do you mean?"

"If there's a fight, people are gonna find it, an' I don't want Sophie anywhere near it. An' if Ruby or any of the other girls go, sure 'nuff Sophie's gonna find her way there too."

"Ruby an' Laura an' Dana are takin' off with James an' some of his boys," Mark said, lighting up a cigarette. He'd been smoking more and more lately, since the mess with the Shepards. "But I could take Sophie somewhere."

"Yeah … Don't tell her though. She won't like it."

Mark nodded. "I ain't stupid."

**x x x**

"I can't believe you're going somewhere with them," Sophie sighed. "I thought we could hang out tonight. Joel's going off with Freddy to mess around. You know James has been cheating on Laura, right?"

"I think Laura's the only one who don't know that," Ruby giggled. "But Lucas is real sweet. He brought me flowers once."

"And I can't tag along?" She'd never have said that to anyone else, but Ruby wouldn't laugh at her or judge her. And Sophie could tell by the look on her face that she felt really bad about it.

"I asked, I really did," Ruby moaned, "but none of the guys wanted to go with you …"

Sophie shrugged. "That's fine. Maybe Joel will let me tag along with him. He used to. Freddy doesn't hate me, I don't think."

Ruby nudged her in the ribs. She'd moved from the chair to beside Sophie on the bed now that her nails were dry. She had her makeup all set out in front of her mirror, but Sophie had distracted her from putting it on. "Why don't you go look for Curly Shepard, huh?" Sophie had told her everything, starting from the morning on the Ribbon. She'd gotten a real kick out of it.

"I promised your brother I wouldn't," Sophie argued. But she couldn't help thinking about it. He really was something, that Curly Shepard, even if he seemed to like teasing her more than talking to her. There had to be more to him than that; no one searched you out just to tease you. He was deeper than that. Wasn't he?

"So what?" Ruby screeched, "he ain't _your_ brother, so what's it matter?"

"I promised mine too!"

Ruby said, "If you ain't outta this house lookin' for Curly Shepard in ten seconds I swear to God …"

Sophie was pretty sure Ruby was just living vicariously through her – it was like Romeo and Juliet, because he was dangerous and forbidden and a whole lot of trouble and the only boys she got were stupid Brumly ones who weren't even really part of the gang yet. But she got up and went anyway.

It wasn't hard to find Curly. He was outside the DX, heading towards Tim's car with him. She was considering calling out to him, since the DX was kind of in the middle and not really anyone's territory – God, she was too wrapped up in territory lately, and who cared! Not her, that's for sure – but he noticed her first and didn't drive off with his brother. Instead he loped over to meet her.

"Hey," she said, a little breathless. She'd run the whole way there.

He grinned, but nicely this time. Not like he planned on messing her around or really just wanted to get stats on Joel. It was a real almost-smile. "Hey yourself."

Then she wasn't sure exactly what to say. She'd never asked out a boy before. No one had ever asked _her_ out either, except for some nervous little puppy-eyed kid in elementary school. And back then she'd just thought boys were gross. They'd gone on their little date anyway: lunch in the corner of the field. And he'd kissed her on the cheek. What a weird kid.

But Curly apparently had a lot of experience with girls – especially ones as nervous as her – because he didn't beat around the bush. "You wanna go to the Nightly Double tonight?"

And Sophie smiled and said, "Yeah, I do."

"In the meantime," Curly continued, walking away. Sophie stood where she was awkwardly until he turned around and chuckled. "In the meantime, me an' you can go check out the action on Sutton." So she followed along, even though she had no clue what kind of action would be going on there at all since The Dingo was down for the count.

**x x x**

Freddy Green and Joel Baker met up in the vacant lot at eleven thirty to wait for Shepard and Hadley. They were a little drunk and were in high spirits; pumped up and ready to rumble. Joel had made Freddy promise that he didn't have any weapons on him this time, that it was just gonna be a blow-off-steam kind of skin fight.

Freddy looked real good before a fight. His yellow eyes got bright and almost seemed to flicker like flames, and his blonde hair was all greased back away from his face. He had a lot of little scars all over, starting from his left cheek and going all the way down to his collarbone. They'd all been real cuts once, but hardly deep enough to scar the whole length.

He wore them like a badge of honour and Joel thought it was real tuff.

Freddy was hopping from one foot to the other, giddy and itching to get going. "When they gonna get here?" he muttered. Joel laughed and handed him a cigarette, "so you don't get too worked up 'fore we even get started."

"Shoot kid," Freddy grinned, and put his arm around Joel's shoulders. Joel's stomach clenched a little. "I ain't gonna wear myself out."

"I hope not," said a voice clear across the lot. Tim Shepard and Russell Hadley – looking extra greasy – were striding across the lot. "'Cause I can't wait to get started."

"So let's go!" Freddy shouted, and ran to meet them in the middle. Joel was quick behind him, fists already up. The only thing that gave him peace of mind in this whole mess was that Sophie was safe somewhere with Mark.

**x x x**

Curly knew the perfect place to climb over the fence, somewhere no one ever noticed you, but Sophie insisted on doing it the legal way. She had the quarter, it wasn't a big deal. So she met him around on the inside, up in the seats for if you didn't have a car. They sat as far back as they could so they could slouch down in their seats and rest their heads on the backs. Curly thought it was nuts, but Sophie said it was really comfortable in the dark.

As hot as the days got in Oklahoma, the nights cooled right off, and he could see Sophie shivering in her tee shirt. As the first movie flickered on the screen – a silly beach movie, but the next one was a scary flick so that was okay to him – he stood up and offered to go get her some popcorn or something.

"Just a 7-Up would be good," Sophie said, her stomach a little twisted up. She wasn't used to anyone buying her things, especially Shepard boys, but it would be rude to say no when he'd asked her out after all.

"You drink those like a fiend," Curly said, shaking his head a little.

"I don't like cola," Sophie shrugged. "I drink just as much soda as anyone else."

Curly said, "guess you do," and walked off towards the concession.

Sophie crossed her arms and shivered when he left. She'd tried not to let it show when he was around, but goosebumps were raised all up her arms and she was freezing. It was stupid not to bring a sweater along, but she hadn't stopped off at home before the sun fell. She and Curly had spent all afternoon in the school playground, playing silly games of tag and seeing who could swing highest before the swing set legs came out of the ground and the swings "bumped" whenever they swung to the top. They'd bought sodas at the drugstore and she'd stopped him from jumping a black guy by grabbing his shoulder and swearing she'd never even look at him again if he did it.

She hadn't really thought it would work – that kind of thing only worked for girls whose guys were crazy about them – but after a couple minutes he watched the guy walk off and he'd grumbled that they better get going or they were going to miss the first movie. That had made her heart jump around pretty bad, but she ignored it. There was no point getting worked up over something that could mean nothing. She wouldn't let herself get lost in daydreams.

Curly came back ten minutes later with two sodas and some popcorn for himself. He set it all down before swinging off his leather jacket and holding it out to Sophie. He was only in a tee shirt but the cold didn't bother him much at all.

"Oh no, that's totally okay," she fought anyway. "You'll get cold, and I'm fine, it's my own fault …"

"Just take it," he said – ordered, more like, in his deep you-gotta-listen tone – so she took it, and put it on while he got comfortable again beside her. It was too big on her by a long shot, so she pushed the sleeves down to grab her drink. It was warm though, from his body heat, and smelled like cigarette smoke, soap, and pleasantly musky cologne he'd probably stolen. No greaser would ever pay for something like that. Who had the money anyway?

She didn't look at him when she said, "thanks," really quietly. Curly liked that, how soft her voice got. He liked it a lot.

By the end of the first movie Sophie's head had dropped over onto his shoulder, so he naturally put his arm around her. But he didn't try to make out with her, didn't try to push it like the other girls he went with who would be all over him by now anyway. He even managed to pay enough attention to really get into the horror flick, and every time Sophie flinched when someone jumped out behind a door or got killed, he tightened his hold on her.

At one point she shyly slid her hand across his stomach to hold onto his shirt on the other side. As skinny as he was, it was still hard as rock, and it made her stomach sink in a little touching it. He chuckled out loud at how nervously she did it. No chick had ever been so nervous just to put her arm on him before. It was … _cute_.

It was only Tuesday so the Nightly Double only played two movies, but the second didn't end until twelve o'clock. The boys would be rumbling by now, Curly thought, not taking his arm away from Sophie's shoulders even as they walked out the front and down the street towards her place. He didn't want her to leave so soon, but he figured she probably had a curfew or something. She was too nice a girl not to. And she didn't seem to know Joel was out fighting, that she had no one to go home to. He wondered if that would scare her. If she'd go looking for him.

"Let's stop here a second," he said, half way through the park. On one side of them were the fountain and the pool for the kids, but on the other was just a stretch of grassy field. He sat right down on the ground and motioned for her to do the same.

She didn't have a curfew – as long as Joel knew where she was he really didn't give a hang – but she said "I can't, I have to be home" anyway. She didn't want to get away from him quick or anything, more that she was just nervous he was going to try something, and she really wasn't ready for that no matter who it was with.

Curly lied out on his back and watched her with steady eyes. "Jus' for a second." He really did have great eyes, so she lied down on the grass beside him and let him hold her hand between them. The sky was great at night from the park, because it had no lights in the field, and they could see all the constellations. Well, Sophie could – Curly had no clue where they were, or what they were, until Sophie pointed them all out. She even knew all their stories, which would bore Curly any other day, in school or from a broad, but Sophie's voice just drew him into the story like no other, and he found himself actually listening to what she was saying instead of just waiting for her to finish talking.

But when she did, he leaned over onto his elbow and kissed her.


	9. baby you're a rich man

_Not my best chapter haha. Kind of a filler almost. I mean it's got important bits but it's not a huge movement - unless you catch it ;D loveee and thank you to my beautiful reviewers, all two of you perfect people. xoxo, Carolyn.  
><em>

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><p><em>How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people<br>how often have you been there, often enough to know _

Joel examined his face in the mirror in Freddy Green's bathroom. It was caked with blood from his lip, nose, and the broken skin on his cheek from a ring Hadley hadn't taken off. He was willing to bet anything that his nose was broken – but Freddy could push that back into place, he'd done it to himself before – and a blood vessel or two was burst in his right eye filling it up with blood.

No one had won. No one had walked off. They only stopped when everyone got too tired or too sick to swing anymore, then shook hands and walked off like men. It was the weirdest fight he'd ever been in.

From the living room Freddy called, "c'mere, lemme fix your nose before you try washin' your face off." He sounded drunk but it was just pure exhaustion now.

Joel dragged himself out of the bathroom and onto the couch beside Freddy. He wasn't very tall – he was shorter than Joel – but he was a muscly guy and most people were scared of him anyway.

"This ain't gonna feel good," Freddy warned, putting his hands on Joel's nose.

He rinsed his face in the sink later, but gingerly, and drunkenly. He'd swallowed half a bottle of whiskey so that he wouldn't have to keep feeling the pain radiating through his face; fixing it had felt worse than breaking it in the first place.

There were boys more handsome than Joel, but he didn't think he looked too bad. A little feminine sometimes, but … well that just happened, didn't it? It wasn't something he could help. It didn't mean anything. He wasn't … just because he looked like that …

"We should have a party!" Freddy slurred, appearing at the doorway. He'd finished off the whiskey and was close to passing out. "On Friday, here, we'll … we'll go crazy."

Joel put his arm around Freddy's shoulders and led him to the bedroom. "Yeah we're gonna have a party, big guy," he said. Freddy was stumbling badly, and his eyes were drooping. He was ready to drop. So he pushed him over onto the bed, fully clothed with his shoes on.

Freddy grabbed hold of his arm when he turned around. "Where ya goin?"

"To sleep on your couch," Joel said, pulling his arm away. But his head was spinning.

"Oh," Freddy said sadly. Then he put his head down on the pillow and said, "oh," again before falling asleep.

**x x x**

Sophie woke up to someone lying on her bedroom floor. It was Ruby, still all glitzed up, her hair messy from sleep. She'd taken blankets from the closet but still didn't look very comfortable on the hard carpet. You could find all sorts of people in your house in the morning if you didn't lock the door.

"Hey, Ruby," Sophie whispered, poking her in the ribs with her foot. Ruby groaned a little, but just rolled over and kept right on sleeping.

With a shrug, Sophie got up and headed downstairs to make breakfast. Sun shone in at her through the windows, promising another scorching summer day. It was only getting hotter, and she was a little wary of what August was going to end up like. Sophie was a fall person, maybe even winter. One day she wanted to live somewhere that snowed.

As she rummaged through the fridge for ingredients, her heart still fluttered happily while she relived last night. A boy had never made her feel that way before, and she didn't think Curly Shepard was capable of anything like that. He hadn't even tried to make out with her, just kissed her a couple times then helped her up off the grass. He'd walked her all the way to the front porch stairs – even though she protested – and kissed her there too, and left without taking his jacket back. She had nothing to worry about though – Joel hadn't been home.

He still wasn't home. Probably went and got drunk with Freddy and was passed out on someone's couch somewhere.

The smell of French toast roused Ruby and brought her staggering down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and smearing her eye makeup like a raccoon. Sophie giggled.

"It ain't funny," Ruby groaned, sitting down at the kitchen table and dropping her head onto her arms. "My head is killin'."

"Why are you here?" Sophie asked, throwing some bacon on to cook too. She poured a glass of chocolate milk for Ruby and herself. "Not that I don't enjoy your company."

"You ain't got coffee?" Ruby mumbled, taking the milk anyway.

"Nah. No one here drinks it."

"Ugh." Her head flopped down again. "What a horrible night. Mark was lookin' for you, by the way. Came to the Ribbon to see if you was with us."

"Oh God!" Sophie almost flipped the bacon pan. "You didn't tell him where I was, did you?"

"'Course not!" Ruby protested. "What kinda friend d'you think I am? I told him you was at the Nightly Double by yourself 'cause you couldn't find no one to hang out with."

"I _was_ at the Nightly Double last night. Thank God he didn't come looking for me. Doesn't explain why you're here, though."

Ruby didn't tell her until after they'd eaten and cleaned up breakfast. She did make Sophie recount her night though, every little detail, and run upstairs to bring down Curly's coat to show her.

"Lucas ain't never given me his coat," Ruby said, clearly jealous. "That's part of the reason I'm here, actually. Mark said all us could stay at my place if we was gettin' drunk 'cause he didn't want me or Laura or Dana to end up in a gutter I guess. So the boys and I came back to my place an' we was dancin' to records for a bit an' then Laura an' James went off an' Dana went to the bathroom to puke an' her date left, so it was just me an' Lucas an' he kept … well he kept tryin' to have sex. An' I don't want to. I just ain't ready!"

She seemed ashamed, so Sophie said, "I don't want to either. I'm only fourteen. We have time to do that stuff later," and held onto Ruby's hand. Ruby smiled at her gratefully.

"But he wouldn't leave me alone," she continued, "so I jus' left an' I came here 'cause I figured you weren't gonna spend the night at Curly's or nothin'."

"You were right about that," Sophie nodded. "You wanna shower up here and we can go do something? You've still got some clothes here." They always made sure to keep clothes at each other's house, ever since, in grade five, Ruby spilled paint all over herself when Mark wasn't home and had to wear them for the rest of the day. Her parents were never home – travelling in Europe – so it was up to Mark. Sophie wondered if that's why he and Joel got along so well. The first day Sophie got back they'd made sure to swap clothes.

"Yeah, sure," Ruby smiled. "It's been a while since it was just you an' me, hey?"

"Too long," Sophie agreed.

**x x x**

Tim was a wreck. He hadn't wiped his face off before passing out at home, so his cheek was glued to the pillowcase. When he pried it off, his cheek just started bleeding again. At least he hadn't broken his nose a fourth time, but Baker hadn't looked too good by the end of it.

He'd got what he wanted, though. Tim had blown off a lot of steam and aggression, and was ready to go at this with a level head again.

Curly was already at the kitchen table drinking instant coffee when Tim came in after his shower. His face was more bruised than Curly's, which the younger boy wanted to snicker at, but held back. He'd been lucky once – Sophie hadn't even mentioned it, though he'd seen her glance at his bruises worryingly – but he didn't think he'd be so lucky a second time, that Tim would stop before he killed him. He was always so tense and angry lately. Even before Tommy was killed.

"You do anything stupid again last night?" Tim asked, referring to the note he'd passed along the last time he tried to do the gang some good.

Curly scowled. "I was on a date last night."

Tim chuckled. "What senseless broad did you trick into that?"

Curly leaned back in the chair, his arms still stretched out to hold his cup. It was hot as an oven in the house, so he hadn't put a shirt on yet, and was wearing the jeans from yesterday. He hadn't even showered yet, but with so much grease slicking his hair back you couldn't really tell. "Sophie Baker."

Tim almost dropped his coffee mug. Then he grinned. But he didn't say anything, just patted his brother on the back before retreating back into his bedroom to get ready to leave. He couldn't ever stand just hanging around the house, no matter what. If he wasn't sleeping or showering, he didn't want to be in it.

Sophie Baker, huh. Tim wondered if Joel knew what his sister had been up to. Knowing Curly like he did, he figured she probably wasn't all too innocent anymore. He thought of when he realized that Angela wasn't an angel anymore – when she was about thirteen. He just asked if she'd been smart about it, because ma wasn't gonna take care of her and a baby too. Jack wouldn't stand for it either; he already thought ma's kids were messes.

But it wasn't his place to tell Joel. He wasn't playing games like Curly was. This wasn't just another gang fight, just another mess. This was all levels of personal, and he wasn't going to screw it up for anything.

She was a nice looking little chick though, Sophie Baker. He almost felt bad about her corruption. Almost.

**x x x**

Sophie and Ruby tried to hitch a ride up to the Ribbon, giggling and pushing each other on the side of the road, but nobody stopped until Mark came by in his truck and shouted at them for hitchhiking and made them hop into the truck with him. They both sat up front, Sophie in the middle and Ruby at the window.

"Everyone does it, Mark," Ruby said breezily. Both girls were still a little giggly and feeling silly. It was nice, Ruby thought, to be able to act like a kid. When she was with Laura they always had to try to act like ladies, like the girls who were eighteen and nineteen and dressed up and got drunk every night. Ruby hadn't even wanted to start smoking until Laura said it was what sophisticated ladies did.

"If everyone jumped offa bridge, would you do it too?"

The girls looked at each other, burst out laughing, and screamed, "YES!"

Mark dropped them off at Hogan's with a warning that they better be careful and not hitch back or he was going to crack their heads together. He'd done it before, only once, when they were younger and had shot him in the stomach with a BB gun. He still had some little round, white scars beside his belly button from it.

It wasn't quite noon yet, so they skipped Hogan's in favour of heading into the Ribbon drugstore and getting sodas and candy and looking at the fashion magazines. There was a greaser boy that looked sort of familiar to Sophie, wandering the store and eyeing things that looked easy to steal. His heart didn't seem all that into it though. His eyes were big and grey like hers.

"So Laura found out last night that James has been gettin' with Dana," Ruby said conversationally. "She still slept with him."

It wasn't all that funny, but Sophie still laughed. She was in a silly mood. "They share everything else, might as well share him too."

"Would you ever share Curly?" Ruby asked curiously.

"Get your own man," Sophie teased, wanting to avoid the question. As fun a time she had with him last night, they weren't going steady – they'd only been on one date – and she had to be prepared to hear that he was going on dates with other girls, or didn't want to date her anymore.

Around one, they accidentally met up with Freddy and Joel, just heading into the Dairy Queen. They stopped to wait for the girls to catch up, but Sophie almost froze when she saw their faces – bruised, cut up, swollen.

"Ain't sure how you're gonna eat with busted up lips like that," Ruby commented, following them into the lineup.

Sophie grabbed her brother's sleeve and held him back. "What the hell happened to you?" she hissed through her teeth. Joel shook her off.

"Shepard and I had a disagreement last night. It ain't nothin'."

"What is with you? Can't you stop fighting for a day?"

"You don't get it, Sophie, you ain't never gonna get it."

She looked like she wanted to start yelling at him. Instead she pushed by him and went to stand in line with Ruby and Freddy, who were talking up a storm. She joined in with no problem, laughing and smiling. But she wasn't as happy as she was before.

Joel had ruined that for her, and he knew it.

When they sat down at their table with trays, Sophie made sure to quickly slide in beside Freddy, forcing Ruby to go around and sit across from her. She didn't want to have to be beside, or looking at, Joel. With all this fighting he was going to get himself killed, and then what would she do? End up in some foster home where they beat her and wouldn't let her go see his grave.

Ruby watched Sophie's tray with concern – a large 7-Up, barbecue sandwich, and fries. All she had was water and a plain hamburger.

"You're eatin' a lot lately," she joked weakly. Freddy and Joel were lost in their discussion about last night's fight and weren't really listening, but Sophie blushed anyway and said, "I'm hungry."

"Don't eat too much or you're gonna get fat. Curly ain't gonna want you anymore." She laughed then dug into her burger happily. Sophie tried to smile too, but she didn't pick up a thing off her tray the whole meal.

"You feelin' sick?" Freddy joked, putting his arm around her shoulder like a brother while she dumped her full tray in the garbage.

"Yeah," Sophie said quietly, looking down her flat stomach, "kind of."


	10. skin

_Short chapter. Kind of liked where I ended it and didn't wanna push out any more that I wasn't sure of. review? I'd love you if you did. No matter what you say. xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>Take a look at my body, look at my hands<br>there's so much here that I don't understand_

Sophie went home with Ruby after lunch to make sure everyone had cleared out of her house – which they hadn't. It was an almighty mess, the music was up loud, and it looked like they were drinking again even though it was the middle of the day. Mark still wasn't home, which Ruby could breathe a sigh of relief over, but he wouldn't be gone forever. He'd already been out all night.

"Jesus," Sophie said under her breath, helping Ruby pick up all the fallen lamps and beer cans and clothes everywhere.

"I'll take out here," Ruby suggested, gesturing around to all her drunken friends – because only two of them were Sophie's friends, and she wasn't even sure about that lately – "and you can take my bedroom."

The bedroom was just as bad as anywhere else. The mattress had been pulled off the bed and sheets and blankets were everywhere. A beer spill on the carpet, bunched up clothes, even a used condom. She turned down the record playing from Ruby's record player – the only one in the house – so it wasn't bursting her eardrums. Voices from the living room were floating back to her now, and she guiltily turned down the music just a little more so she could hear them better.

"…so skinny!"

"I know, but have you seen what she eats? We went to the drugstore an' she got ten times the candy I did. An' then she still got food at Dairy Queen."

"Ain't gonna last for long, that body. I already seen her tummy poppin' a little. Hey! You think she's pregnant?"

"Nah. She's too sweet to even not be a virgin. She just ain't gonna stay skinny forever. Then she's gonna get fat."

Sophie turned the volume back up and finished cleaning, feeling that if she heard another word, she'd be sick.

Most of all, she didn't get it. Had they always talked about her like this? Just waiting for the day where she slipped, messed up, became some huge monster eating everything in sight? She'd always thought her diet was fine, and she hadn't been getting bigger, so what was the problem?

She looked sideways into the mirror, pulling up her shirt to inspect her stomach. Maybe there was a little bump there, right behind her belly button … Ruby was bigger than she was, why was no one picking at her about it? She thought she was doing fine …

Someone burst through the door and Sophie whipped her top down as fast as she could. Dana didn't even notice. She just rummaged around the room for her purse and shoes.

"Hey Soph," she said pleasantly, a little tipsy, "have you seen my purse?"

"Ah, no," Sophie muttered, then left the room without another word, left the house without even saying goodbye.

She didn't get it. She just couldn't wrap her head around this. Did they talk about her behind her back all the time? What had they said when she'd been gone? And did they really think she was _fat_? How come they couldn't just tell her to her face, why did they have to giggle behind her back about it? They were supposed to be her best friends …

Joel wasn't home yet when she came in, so she didn't bother racing up to her bedroom. She just dropped down onto her tummy on the couch and cried.

**x x x**

Freddy dropped Joel off after a drive to see the boys, telling him that he better stop by later for a drink and some bullshitting. Joel promised he would. But he had family problems to deal with first.

When he walked through the front door, he was expecting defiance and anger. He thought Sophie would flounce from the kitchen, giving him dirty looks over her shoulder and refusing to let him into her bedroom to talk to her. Nothing had prepared him to walk in on his little sister, face down on the couch, crying so hard that she was having trouble catching her breath.

For a second he couldn't move. He'd never had to deal with girls crying before; he didn't date much, and when she was little he only ever saw her cry from skinned knees or cut palms, and those were easy to fix: kiss them better and send her on her way. This was nothing like that. This was coming from the heart, and just the sound of it almost broke his.

Finally he could move his limbs again, and he walked over, slowly and shaky, to sit down in front of her – she really didn't take up much space – and start to rub calming circles on her back. That just made her cry harder, but he kept it up until she sat up heavily and let him hug her. The tears were still there though, streaming down her red face.

"Joel," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with his shirt, "am I fat?"

The question completely threw him.

"Are … what?" He had to hold back from laughing at the absurdity. "If you lost any more weight your spine an' ribs would stick out."

She mumbled, "Dana's ribs stick out."

"Yeah well Dana needs to eat more then."

She was silent for a minute, thinking. Her tears had stopped, so Joel counted a victory. Sometimes it was hard to be the father and mother to a teenage girl. He wouldn't be having his own kids for a long time, he was sure about that.

"I'm gonna go have a shower, okay? I didn't get one this morning."

So Joel let her go.

He was dying to know what made his tiny baby sister think she was fat. He mulled it over as he poured a glass of chocolate milk and turned on the television to the afternoon news. There was always something on about the war these days, and although Joel didn't understand half of it, he liked to keep up with the times. He wasn't all too educated.

If he knew where Mark was, he'd ask him, but no one had seen Mark since he left Joel's yesterday. That ticked Freddy off a little, since he didn't trust Mark – he was strong and smart and people liked him. If Freddy wasn't so wild and dangerous, Mark probably would have taken over Brumly months ago.

**x x x**

Mark stood under the unlit streetlight on the corner of Weston and Oak, a cigarette between his lips and his fingers twitching nervously. He was watching Curly Shepard approaching, his own cigarette embers glowing even in the sunlight. Curly had contacted Mark, called the meeting, but Mark had a few of his own choice words to throw in too.

They were about the same height, Mark and Curly, but Mark had a lot more to his build. He was more like a bull than a slinky cat, and he was confident that if it came to throwing blows, he would come out on top.

"I wanna know what was in that letter you sent to Curtis," Mark said immediately.

Curly shrugged. "Ain't nothin' to worry 'bout."

Mark stepped towards him, but Curly flicked out his switchblade. "I said it ain't nothin' to worry 'bout, Butler."

So Mark stepped back.

"I wanna know what Freddy's got on his mind," Curly said casually, not putting the blade down, holding it out right at Mark's chest.

"I dunno nothin' about what Freddy's doin'," Mark said, keeping the same bored tone in his voice. It wouldn't do him any favours to let Curly know he was a little on edge about this whole thing. "I don't get told nothin'."

He laughed; a short, barking laugh. "I'm supposed'a believe that?"

Mark's turn to shrug. "Believe what you want. I don't know nothin'."

They stood staring at each other for a long moment. Mark growled, "Tell me what was in the letter."

"Jus' a little reminder is all. 'Bout what happens when you let your little girl outta your sight…"

Mark lunged, pulling his own blade – a butterfly knife – out of his pocket and flipping it open. He got the first hit, slicing Curly down the side, cutting his shirt and wetting the material. Mark's knife came out bloodied.

Curly hardly even flinched. He took a leap back, then darted forwards to swing and hit the inside of Mark's elbow. Blood squirted out of his arm, onto his hand and the pavement. Mark tried to swing his knife again, but it just pulsed out more blood, and was hurting like nothing else. He was bleeding pretty badly.

He moaned, "Call an ambulance." But Curly walked off instead.

**x x x**

Sophie stripped off her clothes and examined her body in the full mirror propped in the corner of the little bathroom. She sucked in her stomach until the skin molded around her ribs, then exhaled and pushed her stomach out as far as it would go, like a little balloon. She tried to put her fingers around her thighs, checked on her butt, and even sucked in her cheeks to see how thin her cheeks were.

_Curly ain't gonna want you anymore. _

She covered her small chest with her hands.

_Then she's gonna get fat._

She turned the shower on and bowed her head so the water pushed all her hair down in front of her face. She wondered if he thought she was ugly. Was she ugly? Did they all think she was fat and ugly?

Finally, she was sick.


	11. one headlight

_So is it just me or are the Traffic Stats messed/not showing up/erroring? Kind of super annoying but ah ... haha. This chapter is one again dedicated to my dedicated and ever lovely reviewer! xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>Now it always seemed such a waste<br>she always had a pretty face  
>so I wondered how she hung around this place<em>

Sophie didn't see anyone for two days. She ignored all Ruby's phone calls and pretended to be sick when Laura came to the door. Curly never tried contacting her – he was smarter than that – but she made sure she wasn't around town to find, either. All yesterday Joel pushed her to get out, have some fun, spend some time with friends, but she just ignored him. So he gave up, leaving the house with Freddy for such long periods of time that sometimes Sophie wondered if he was even going to come home.

Joel had his own problems anyway. He couldn't sit around all day and baby Sophie until her depression passed. She was fourteen; she was always going to be sad about something.

No one had seen Mark for almost three days. He wasn't at home, wasn't hanging around with any of the gang, and missed all the gang meetings. It was putting Freddy hard on edge; he was jumpy and paranoid, and anytime someone talked about Mark, he'd snap on them and punch them in the stomach and tell them that maybe Mark was better off somewhere else. It was almost painful for Joel just to see Freddy lose himself like that. He wasn't the same as he was a few months ago. He wasn't sane.

Between his sisters, his mother, Mark, Freddy, and the Shepard Gang, Joel just had too much on his plate. So when most everyone left Freddy's and he started handing round the speed, Joel didn't pass.

**x x x**

"I'm goin'," Curly yelled. His mother was home – she didn't work Fridays – and she liked to know when her kids were coming and going, even if she didn't much care where they went. Tim hadn't talked to him much for the past few days either, which was a relief; because he didn't think he'd be able to keep his mouth shut about what he did. And for once, he wanted to keep this to himself – at least for now, until something actually came out of it. But when it did – there would just be no way that Tim wouldn't raise his ranks, even just a little. This was perfect.

But that was Wednesday and today was Friday, and he had other business to attend to.

It wasn't a good side of town for him to be walking on, but he was going to risk it anyway. He had his blade in his pocket still, and none of the Brumly boys – the ones who were actively in the gang, anyway – seemed to be kicking around. Not that it would have stopped him. It was two days since he'd last seen her face.

Just last month that would have suited Curly Shepard just fine. He didn't like girls who hung around too often, wouldn't get off his case and had to see him every second of every day, where he was, who he was with. He ended up messing around with other chicks just to get chicks off his back, and then the other chicks started in on him. But Sophie wasn't like that, and it was making _him _want to hang around too often. He couldn't help but be glad that they had to keep this between themselves, more or less, because if his gang knew what was happening to him … he'd never live it down.

It was the part of him that he'd show Sophie and the part of him he'd hide from everyone else. The same way that he would hide, forever, what he did to Mark. What he'd done before. What he planned on doing again.

**x x x**

A knock on the door interrupted Sophie in the middle of filling up the sink for washing dishes. She left the water running, soap bubbling up, coffee heating on the stove – it was a new fad with the young kids these days, making too much coffee the day before then making "instant", or rewarmed, coffee later on – to answer. She figured it would just be Laura, Dana, or Ruby; she'd say she was sick and goodbye and get right back to her cleaning.

But it was a tall, lean, greasy-haired hood on the other side of the door. She reached out and pulled him inside, heart pounding in her chest like a caged lion, looking around to make sure no one was watching before she swung the door shut.

Then she rounded on him. "Curly! What if Joel had been home? Or Mark?"

His lips twitched a little at the mention of Mark, but then he smiled wide and reckless. "Well they ain't, so what's the problem?"

She sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"D'you not wanna see me anymore?"

She stared him in the face, intending to say exactly that. She wasn't good enough for him, he wouldn't be happy with her. He could get a much prettier girl. Ruby had told her about Jenny, and she knew that Jenny was a redheaded bombshell.

His wounds were healing; the swelling had gone right down and the bruises were changing colour. He was leaning to the side a little, and sometimes when he moved he would grimace; she assumed he'd gotten into another fight with someone and been punched in the ribs.

But his eyes were how they'd always been. They were the deepest blue, fiery and alive, and they drew her in like nothing else ever had. It was a cliché and she knew it, but all of a sudden she understood everything about love, because she loved his eyes.

And she couldn't tell him to leave.

"I've got coffee warming," she said instead, leading him through to the kitchen. He scrunched up his nose a little; the instant coffee fad was one he could have done without. It was just leftovers and it tasted like it, unless you filled it half up with milk. Not that he ever did, but he'd heard things.

The coffee was at the perfect temperature, and Curly ran to pull it off the stove while Sophie stopped short, looking horrified at the huge puddle of soapy water on the floor, spilling over from the sink. There were fifty times more bubbles than she thought she'd put in, and the sink was entirely overflowed.

Slowly, Sophie walked forward to turn the tap off. It would take a lot of rags to soak that up, especially since there wasn't a mop to be seen in the entire house. Curly was leaning against a dry stretch of counter just watching her, trying to hold back a grin. He didn't want to laugh right at her, but this was probably the funniest thing he'd seen all day. He could use a laugh.

She could too, which is why she cupped her hands in the bubbly water and flung it right at his chest, splashing all over his white tee shirt. And even though he was giving her a look like he could smack her half way across the room, she giggled. She giggled so hard that she began to have trouble breathing, and his face softened like melting butter.

And then it was war.

**x x x**

When Joel got home, the entire kitchen was soaked. Dish rags were strewn about the floor, sopping wet, yet there was still a kiddy pool on the vinyl.

"Sophie!" he yelled, bending down to pick up the towels and throw them into the dingy little laundry room under the stairs and pull out some real towels for wiping up. His head was still buzzing and he cleaned with unnecessary vigor after realizing that Sophie was either hiding or not home. She hadn't even finished washing the dishes floating in the sink.

"Fuck." But he wasn't really upset. Not this afternoon. He was awake and unstressed, and even getting down onto his knees to mop up the floor wasn't a big deal. Then he finished the dishes, tidied up the bathroom upstairs, and wiped down the kitchen table. He cleaned up his own bedroom and threw caution to the wind; heading into Sophie's to do hers, too.

Her room was pretty neat already. All her books were arranged alphabetically on the dingy little bookshelf. Her desk was neat, with a mug filled with pencils and pens and a couple notebooks stacked one on top of the other. There were some clothes strewn about the floor and a bowl of shrivelled grapes on the bedside table, and the sheets were tangled everywhere.

And a leather jacket, far too big to be Sophie's, was hanging off the back of her desk chair. It made the room smell vaguely of cigarettes. The pockets were empty, and the tag inside ripped off. It was some boy's jacket. Some boy had given Sophie his jacket. Since when did she even date? And who wore leather in the summer? She'd been going out on dates at night and hadn't even thought to tell him. He would have to ask Mark how to approach the subject with her; he'd had to do it with Ruby years ago.

It took him a second to hear the phone ringing downstairs, but he reached it just in time and accidentally shouted "Hello?" into the receiver.

"Hey man," Mark said weakly on the other end of the line.

"Mark! Where ya been?" Joel asked happily. "We been missin' you."

"Yeah," Mark said distractedly. "Hey, listen, you wanna come pick me up from the hospital?"

With traffic, Joel was at the hospital in a half hour. Mark was sitting on the bed in his room, half dressed. A bandage was wrapped around his elbow and half way down his forearm, up his bicep. He was digging around in a bag for the shirt he'd come in with; they'd dropped everything off to him that morning in a paper sack so he could get dressed after being discharged.

"You been here the whole time?" Joel asked quietly. Mark knew what he meant – the two days he'd been missing without a word. "What happened?"

"Curly Shepard happened," Mark said grudgingly. He didn't like to admit that the kid – although they were the same age, it didn't always feel like it – had gotten one over him. "I got him a good one on the side though."

"An' you ended up in the hospital 'cause a cut on your arm?" Joel was skeptical.

Mark shrugged. "Doctor said it hit an artery. Was squirtin' blood an' everythin'. Almost died. If some little ol' lady hadn't come by an' called an ambulance for me …" he trailed off. Joel didn't need him to explain: he understood perfectly.

"Guess we're jus' about even," Joel commented casually, grabbing the paper bag from Mark and pulling the shirt out for him. It was hard watching him struggle with just one useable arm. "Freddy's gonna be excited."

"Nah, he's gonna be pissed I didn't die," Mark grinned.

Joel said, "You know that ain't true," but he couldn't help wondering if maybe it was. Either way, it'd be an excuse to strike again, and that was exactly what Freddy was waiting for.

"Hospital food is the worst," Mark muttered, striding confidently out of the hospital at Joel's side. "I dunno how anyone eats that shit."

"We'll head to Dairy Queen," Joel offered, leading the way to his dusty car in the lot. "I'm payin'."

"Yeah you better be," Mark ribbed. "I ain't even got my wallet on me."

**x x x**

Sophie ran her fingers feather-light along the blurry red line down the bandages wrapped around Curly's torso. The cut kept opening up, but he didn't want to have to go to the hospital about it. He'd been cut worse before and it had healed up just fine. He just needed to give it time. Maybe put some more alcohol on it, disinfect it again. He wasn't worried.

She looked at the small scar on his face. The shiny red burn on his left index finger. She studied the bruises on his chest and the long, thick scar that started near his bellybutton and disappeared down below the waist of his jeans. It was like reading a book on his life long before he'd even known she existed; a violent, reckless, angry book that made her scared to turn the pages.

They were lying together on top of the covers on Curly's bed. He'd shut the door behind him and that had made her nervous, and when he peeled off his shirt she thought she might be sick. Not that he wasn't nice to look at – boy, was he ever nice to look at – but because she didn't want to follow suit. She wasn't ready. She didn't want him to see that much of her. She wasn't pretty enough yet.

But he'd just grinned wryly at her and laid down on his back, lighting up a cigarette, and after her nervousness subsided and the bile – because that's all it could be, because she hadn't had anything but water and some vegetables since Wednesday – had settled in her stomach, she'd lied down beside him. And now she was tracing all his cuts and scars with her fingertips.

The dry tee shirt he'd offered her was still heaped at the end of the bed by his feet. Her shorts had dried well enough but her shirt was stiff and smelled of dish soap. It was uncomfortable, and Curly kept rubbing it between his fingertips because of how strange it felt.

"I ain't gonna watch you change," Curly said. He'd noticed her looking at the shirt.

"It'll be too big," Sophie argued weakly.

"It'll feel better than this." He felt her shirt again. The smell was making her a little dizzy. So slowly, shyly, she slid to the end of the bed and, with her back to him, quickly pulled off her top and straightened out the white one he was offering her.

He watched the curve of her back, and the little tan she was getting on her peachy, smooth skin. He could see the outline of her spine, and her slender hips coming up out of her shorts. There was a snowy white scar on her shoulder blade, a curve like a crescent moon, almost six inches long.

He kept staring even as she slid the shirt over her tiny frame and stood up. It absolutely swamped her, and looked all kinds of adorable. So was the embarrassed grin she flashed him when she turned around. He crooked one finger at her but she shook her head and started digging in her pockets. She used the off-yellow elastic band to bunch up the shirt at the bottom hem on one side and tie it up, tightening and shortening the shirt a little bit. The effect – although Curly had never seen it before in his life – was quite nice.

Then she crawled back up the bed and into his arms again. It was safe there, alone in his bedroom, in his house on the other side of town. Joel would never come looking for her here. Mark would never even suggest it. Ruby would guess, but she would never tell. As much as thinking about the things Ruby said about her hurt, and make a little lump form in her throat, she knew that Ruby would never betray her. She never had before.

Besides, Sophie had just as much on her. They could wage an all-out war with each other's secrets.

"Where you been lately?" Curly asked, rubbing her arm with one hand, holding his cigarette with the other. He could blow smoke rings and Sophie loved watching them. She giggled when he blew the smoke out his nose. "Goin' with some other guy?"

She sighed. She really hadn't wanted to talk about it – ever. "Nope. No one but you. I've just been busy around the house, helping Joel and all. And I went to see ma." That was a huge lie, but she needed something heavy enough to make sense. Plus there was no way he could prove her wrong; he wasn't about to go to the loony bin and ask her mother if she'd stopped by.

"Where's she?" He'd always figured that she worked all hours of the day, like his ma did. They never really talked about family.

"She's … sick," Sophie hedged. He caught her tone and didn't push. His arm loosened around her waist though, so she shrunk away. "It's Friday. Maybe we could catch a movie?"

"Can't," Curly said evenly, but he didn't explain.

Then he leaned over and kissed her. His mouth tasted like an ashtray, but she couldn't have cared less.

"The first one," he said. She asked, "What?" and he clarified, "we'll go see what's playin' at eight. An' then I'll walk you home. I gotta meet up with the gang."

"Not another girl?" she prodded playfully, looking for reassurance.

"No one but you," he copied.


	12. god of wine

_Love and heaps of appreciation to my "Yehhhok" reviewer, who catches everything and is awesome. And thanks to xXSparky CadeXx for her review, too! you are both veryvery awesome. reviews mean the world to me xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>And the God of Wine is crouched down in my room<br>you let me down, I said it  
>and now I'm going down, and you're not even around<em>

After Dairy Queen, Joel took Mark home to shower and change. He sat on the Butler's couch with the news playing, hardly paying attention to it. It had been a while since he'd been there, and even though it looked exactly like his – besides the photos on the walls and colourful wallpaper – it felt like a whole different world. Mark's parents still called to talk sometimes. They sent money home so Mark didn't have to drop out of school. They had a family picture from last year.

Ruby was sitting all curled up in the armchair, glancing back and forth between the TV and him. She had a flirty look on her made-up face, but Joel wasn't interested. She wasn't his type. In fact, he hadn't found a girl who was his type yet at all. He'd slept with some broads before, mainly at Freddy's parties, but they never stuck around. He kicked them out of bed before the sun even rose.

Joel's apparent lack of interest made Ruby sound a little huffy when she asked, "is Sophie feeling better yet?"

"Must be," he replied, "'cause she ain't home."

"How come she didn't call me?" Ruby raged, storming out of the room and up to her bedroom.

Mark passed her on the staircase, flattening himself against the wall to not get stomped over, clearly amused. He had on a clean pair of jeans and a black muscle shirt. The bandage on his arm made him look pretty tough. He wondered if Mark would tell Freddy what happened, and if he didn't, how pissed off Freddy would get about it.

It was only about four o'clock in the afternoon, so they cruised on over to Freddy's to kick back a little before the party. Mark told Joel the whole story on the way there – meeting Curly, asking about the note, the knife fight.

"Didn't really say anythin'," Joel said, a little disgruntled that Mark wouldn't just come up and ask him about it instead of going straight to Shepard. He would have made something up to tell him, but all Mark had done was stare at him funny a couple times. For an educated guy, Mark sure was stupid sometimes. "It was jus' a picture."

A picture of the two Texans. A scribbled note on the back saying, "we love it out on the ocean, Joel." He'd almost cried over it. Almost, but didn't. But he wouldn't throw it away either. He'd thought about showing Tim a couple times but decided against it. They'd buried the murder, buried it and left it behind and he didn't want to go digging it back up again. What the hell was wrong with Curly Shepard, though …

Mark was silent the rest of the way to Freddy's. Why would a picture get him all shaken up, and what in the world could a picture have to do with keeping Sophie safe, like Curly said?

Freddy welcomed them in with open arms, already drunk. He slapped Mark on the back and greeted him loudly, and gave Joel a hug. They talked about Mark's arm – leaving out the part with the note – and discussed the trial, and how both men would have to testify. They'd been dealing with the police and the courts for a while, but Joel had hidden it from Sophie. He knew she didn't want him wrapped up in this. She didn't even like thinking about the stabbing.

"We should go jump him," Freddy said conversationally, after a few beers. "Shepard, I mean."

"Ain't people comin' over?" Joel asked, checking his watch. It was eight o'clock.

Freddy said, "I ain't drunk enough for it yet anyway. Mark, go get the door."

**x x x**

It irritated Sophie that, even though she had fifty cents, Curly still insisted on sneaking in – just because he could. He bought her a 7-Up even though she insisted she wouldn't drink it, and when she really didn't and said she'd meant it, he said that it was a good thing anyway because she didn't need it. They sat beside each other but leaned away, and didn't speak through the whole movie.

But even with all of that, when the first movie was over and Curly stood to leave, Sophie begged, "please, just stay for one more."

"I got stuff to do," Curly countered.

"You can't even spare another hour and a half?"

"I wouldn't if I could."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, then Curly turned and walked off. And she knew; no one had to tell her – just like that, after only four days, they were over. It was all over.

**x x x**

Freddy, Mark, Joel, and Paul Foreman – another member of the gang – set out around ten thirty. They left the raging party, Freddy putting far too much trust in his drunk gang and their friends not to destroy his house, for the pitch dark air growing chilly as the hours wore on into the night.

They were hunting action – but not booze (they were all already nicely soused) or broads (they just weren't in the mood), but a fight. He'd be out somewhere they knew, they just had to be patient and find him.

Mark walked ahead, not liking the sideways looks that Freddy was giving him. He had kept asking what Mark said to Curly to push him to take his knife out; the story just didn't make sense, got violent too fast. But Mark was keeping his mouth shut.

"He's your best buddy, ain't he?" Freddy asked, voice low. "You trust him?"

"With my life," Joel said assuredly.

Freddy clapped him on the back, and let his hand linger a few seconds too long. Something warm blossomed in Joel's stomach.

It didn't take them long to find Curly, leaning against the mouth of an alleyway waiting for something. Probably more of his gang, the less important members, ones Tim didn't give a hang about either way as long as they stayed out of his way and didn't mess things up. He had an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and was patting down his pockets for a matchbook, which it didn't look like he had.

Freddy struck a match. "Hey Shepard, need a light?"

Curly hitched his thumbs through his belt loops and went rigid, but his fear tactics didn't work on them. There was three of them and only one of him, and they planned on beating his lights out before anyone came to his rescue.

"You outta the hospital already?" he asked Mark. "Thought I might see you in the morgue."

"You wanna trip there? We can send you but you ain't gonna be able to see nothin'." Mark flipped out his knife, cleaned and sharpened. Curly felt a little twinge in his side just seeing it; not to mention he still was far from healed and not ready for another fight already. Every time he moved he felt it bleed fresh a little more, but he hid it well, didn't let it show on his face.

Behind Mark, Freddy and Joel also pulled out their blades. This was mainly Mark's fight, not theirs, so for once Freddy stayed back. He knew what this meant to Mark's honour.

Curly thought, this ain't fair, but he wasn't about to say it. Instead he just pulled his own knife out and got ready. But it was no use; they had him punched black and blue and down on the ground in two minutes, and even though he got a few good cuts in, it wasn't enough. His side had ripped open fresh and was bleeding so badly that it was wetting his shirt.

Mark held him by the throat so he couldn't turn away, and cut two gashes through the end of his right eyebrow, side by side. The blood dripped down his temple.

"You're lucky this time," Mark hissed right into Curly's ear. "'Cause next time it's gonna be your throat."

"You sick bastard," Curly whispered back, sounding calm as ever. "Torture. Guess you ain't above nothin'."

Mark grinned darkly. "Guess I ain't." And he drove the blade into Curly's side again, as deep as he could in one swing. Then he stood up.

"Some old lady called the cops," Joel muttered, trying to keep Curly from hearing. "Saw us."

"Then we better take our leave," Freddy said dramatically, bowing to Curly, lying on the ground bleeding, with a flourish. "'Til we meet again, Mr Shepard."

**x x x**

Sophie decided to stay and watch the other three movies anyway. It beat walking home alone and risking stuffing her face with everything she could find in the cupboards then crying. She knocked the 7-Up onto the ground and let it spill under the seat next to her, soak into the ground. Curly was right, she sure didn't need it.

The first movie had been stupid and she'd hardly followed it. She'd been too busy worrying; feeling like this was the end and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Even though they'd never been going steady and they'd only kissed a couple times, Sophie was still feeling really hurt. She'd never set herself up to be hurt like that. It was regret city.

The second movie wasn't looking too much better. It was another beach party movie, which were huge bores to her because she couldn't relate to them at all. They existed purely so couples could make out during a movie without feeling like they'd missed anything important. You could miss the whole first half of the movie and still know exactly what was going on. But she sat through it anyway.

Between the second and third films she got up to buy a cup of water. Her stomach was starting to rumble and she needed to calm it down somehow, and warm water always seemed to do the trick before, when she was little and hungry and Joel had no money left for the week to buy snacks with.

Sophie nearly dropped her drink from stopping short. Right in her seat was Tim Shepard, Curly's older brother and gang leader, the roughest hood on the east side. He had his arms spread out on the backs of the chairs beside him. The seats weren't too filled – most people came in cars – but she didn't have an unlimited choice, so she picked a seat near the end of the same row.

He lit a cigarette, then held it out towards her in offering, catching her eye. He was just as handsome in his brother, but in an entirely different way; Tim was rough, hard, and dangerous, with eyes like steel and a crooked nose, scarred face. Curly was pretty rough-and-tumble too, but younger, a little more vulnerable. You could knock down Curly's walls; Tim's were up for good.

Sophie shook her head. She knew smoking was an appetite suppressant – that was the only reason she'd started drinking coffee a few days ago, even though the bitter taste made her shiver – but she wasn't going to go that far. She'd tried a drag on a cigarette once in California and it had made her cough 'til she was gasping for air, and tasted disgusting.

Suddenly she felt all too aware of herself: that she was wearing Curly's tied-at-the-side tee shirt and had his jacket back in her bedroom, that her hair was falling out of its ponytail, that there was a bruise on her knee. She imagined him reading her mind, knowing exactly what had happened just an hour and a bit ago and how long it had been since she'd eaten anything besides carrot sticks and celery. That she'd loved herself a week ago, until, like a tidal wave, her mind had taken over her body.

She was still looking at him, and he nodded his head at the seat beside him. Did he want her to sit there? It couldn't kill her … she'd already gone to Jay's with him once, and she'd gone on dates with his brother. How much worse could it get? So she sat beside him.

He stayed quiet through the third movie, which was a western with lots of cowboys, Indians, and stand-offs at high noon. She had a bit of trouble following the plot just because she was having trouble concentrating, with Tim so close. His arm was still stretched out over the seat, but the back of her head was touching it a little and his fingers were brushing her shoulder. She could see the colours of the movie glinting off the silver band on his finger, just out of the corner of her eye.

At the end of the movie, without saying a word, Tim got up and walked away. Sophie watched him go, her side feeling cold and exposed now, even if she hadn't been leaning up against him. He was scary but his company was nice, and now she was all alone. And the last movie was a horror – the first midnight viewing of Night of the Living Dead. Usually they played new movies in the movie house, not the drive in, but they'd made an exception for this zombie scare flick.

"Great," she mumbled to herself, taking a sip of her water. She'd never been in the habit of talking to herself, but she felt like she had to say something before standing up and shimmying along the row towards the exit.

"Leavin' already?"

Sophie turned around straight into Tim's chest. He was smoking a cigarette and had a cup in his other hand.

She blushed furiously. "I don't like scary movies …" No need to tell him the truth, that she wanted to go because she thought he wasn't coming back.

He flicked his cigarette onto the ground and put his arm around her shoulders, leading her back to their seats. "Stay, an' I can drive you home after."

You just didn't go around saying no to such a gallant offer from Tim Shepard, so she stayed. He didn't even say a thing when she grabbed his arm and jumped at least four times through the film – just chuckled, patted her thigh with his hand. Like a perfect gentleman, he rested his hand on her lower back towards his car – he'd switched the old sedan she'd seen him driving for a T-Bird. Not that she was in danger of anything, because when Tim Shepard walked by, people got out of his way. He was big, mean, and intimidating, especially in his tight black shirt hugging all his lean muscles. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

It was quiet in the car, besides the growl of the engine, because Tim didn't listen to the radio. He didn't talk much either, and Sophie kept her mouth shut even though he was going in the complete opposite direction of her house. She was curious, and her curiosity was stronger than her want to go home to a dark, empty house – she knew Freddy was throwing a party that night, and Joel wouldn't be home. She'd pick anything else, something to take her mind of Curly and what had happened. She thought they were going somewhere, but she was just a fun week. Maybe he left her because she was too young. Maybe because she hadn't tried to have sex with him. Or because she was Joel's sister. Joel's fat and ugly little sister.

Tim drove all the way out, past the park and schools and even the Ribbon, to one of the lakes – Tulsa was surrounded by them – which no one ever went to. The elementary school kids said it was haunted; middle schoolers claimed that there was a faceless murderer prowling the area; and everyone else just didn't like it because there was no beach, just grass and stones then water all of a sudden. It wasn't a good place for a party.

They got out and hopped up on the long front end of the T-Bird, watching the moon and stars glitter off the lake – well, Sophie was. Tim was watching her. Then all of a sudden he had his hand on her cheek and he was kissing her, and at first she wanted to pull away but thinking of Curly, and her brother, and all her backstabbing friends made her throw her arms around his neck and kiss him back.

She didn't even bother to stop him when he started undoing her shorts.

**x x x**

Freddy, Joel, and Paul headed back to Freddy's house, leaving Mark at his house. He didn't feel like drinking anymore, he said, just wanted to go home and go to bed.

At Freddy's, everyone had cleared out, so Paul went off to find them. He was still hyped and ready to go. Joel, however, wasn't bothered at all that the party had found a new location. He was happy just to flop down onto the couch and rest his head. Curly had gotten some punches in and cut the back of his hand, and he was finished for the night.

Freddy crumpled down beside him, and rested his head on Joel's arm. Joel stiffened up, but he didn't move away.

"I'm just tired, man," Freddy said, sounding like he wanted to cry. He got this way when he was drunk and sleepy. In the morning, Joel knew, he'd be ready to go again, ready to lead and fight and make as much trouble as he could before his trial.

Joel put his arm around his buddy's shoulders. "I know you're tired, man. I know."

"I'm just …" But whatever he was "just", Joel never found out, because he'd fallen asleep on Joel's shoulder.


	13. signs of life

_This chapter kind of really sucks, I am sorry. I had it all written before and it sounded really good, but then my computer froze and I had to restart it and I lost everything. And as ever writer knows, when you have to rewrite a chapter it usually just goes to crap. So this is sort of a junk chapter. I'm sorry! and I have to thank my beautiful, wonderful reviewers, I love all of you, thank you SO much Yehhhok, mintgum666888, and Em-ster 9-1-1 xoxoxox Carolyn. _

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><p><em>There's no signs of life in here at all<br>the sound of quiet is deafening, I wait for you to call_

Tim ran his fingers through his soaking wet hair, body nearly shaking from frustration. The scalding shower water poured over his head and down his skin, tinting it to a light red. It was so hot it hurt a little, but he didn't stop it, didn't cool it down. He deserved it. He'd thought she wasn't a virgin. Thought Curly had already been there, conquered that – it was his MO, to get close, get in, get out. He'd definitely screwed Curly over, by having sex with his little girlfriend – if she told. He sure wasn't going to say a word.

He couldn't explain it – maybe to Joel, but he couldn't even talk to Joel anymore. Their buddy-buddy days were long over, and he didn't even want them back. But when he'd seen Sophie at the drive-in all by herself, looking cold and worried and slid down in her seat – the cut across her shoulder blade he'd given her accidentally trying to keep the Texans away from her. Robin, looking up at him with empty eyes, silently asking him why he couldn't have been there sooner. Sophie's dirty, naked body, passed out in front of him. A few feet away, the first men he'd ever killed.

It all came rushing back to him when he'd seen here like that in the dark, and he'd just had to be close to her. He needed her to sit by him, to touch her somehow. To be as near to her as he could possibly be. And she never stopped him, and he had barely even thought of her once the whole night but having her close made him calm. And for the first time in a long time it made him lose his head completely and just jump. And now he just felt full of regret.

**x x x**

Curly Shepard didn't want to open his eyes. If he did, then he couldn't pretend anymore: he'd wake up in a hospital bed, with the pain killer shots wearing off and his site pulsating more painfully than anything he'd ever felt before. The stiches in his face didn't bug him at all, but the doctor said that his side was infected, and even though it was sewn up too, he wouldn't be able to leave for a couple days. No one had answered the phone at home, but the doctor would try again later.

If Curly Shepard opened his eyes, he couldn't dream anymore. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't in a cold, white hospital room. If he opened his eyes, he would be an infected hood with no family and a dizzy head. If he opened his eyes, he wouldn't have Sophie anymore.

With his eyes closed, he could daydream about her: her perfect smile and the laugh he didn't get to hear nearly enough. Soft, heart-shaped face with wide, anxious eyes. And her absolutely pint-sized body that fit perfectly against his, that his fingertips tingled to feel every time she was away from him. He was turning into a wimp, a sucker, falling apart for this girl.

But it didn't matter, because when he opened his eyes he'd just fuck everything up again, and he didn't know how to get her back yet. So he didn't open his eyes.

**x x x**

She spent the night in front of the door, curled up on the floor hugging her knees. Joel didn't come home, nobody stopped by, nobody even called. That's the way she liked it. She didn't want to talk to anyone ever again.

She'd had sex with Timothy Shepard. There was no way to sugar coat it, nothing she could say. She didn't even have a good explanation for it, just a childish one – she'd been mad at Curly for dumping her. She'd been mad at Joel for never giving a hang about what she did or where she was anymore since Freddy had gotten out. Even Mark hadn't given her talks lately, but that might be because she hadn't been over to see Ruby lately.

It was hardly a week ago when everything was normal. She was just a fourteen year old kid – who wasn't ready to drink or have sex or even date – running around with Ruby and Laura and sometimes Dana, just having a good time. She missed messing around at Hogan's, trying to hitchhike up the street, and teasing Mark.

So she got up and called Ruby.

"Yay! You're better now!" Ruby shouted through the phone. Ruby never stayed mad for long, and she wasn't bugged anymore that Sophie had gone out without calling Ruby right away when she "got better."

"Let's do something," Sophie said.

"Right now? I was sorta plannin' on goin' to this actin' group. It's the first day, an' it's free …"

Acting? Sophie could act. She'd been acting totally normal for the past couple of days. "Can I come?"

"Yeah, sure."

Sophie changed her clothes and put her messy hair into a ponytail, and met Ruby on the street. They walked together towards the Tulsa Community Center; Ruby telling her about how James broke up with Laura for Dana and now the cousins hate each other, and Sophie told her that she and Curly broke up – but left out the part about Tim.

"Guess it wasn't made to last anyways," Ruby mused. "You two bein' from feudin' gangs an' all."

"But I'm not part of any gang, so that shouldn't matter," Sophie argued. She was getting all kinds of tired of the gangs and the fights – they were all hoods, why couldn't they just be poor hoods together?

Ruby changed the subject, and they easily fell back into their old pattern. They talked about everything and nothing all at once, stuck their thumbs out when hippies drove by and gave them peace signs when they wouldn't stop to pick them up. A few construction workers in town whistled at them, and they wiggled their butts and lifted their shirts up to their ribs before throwing them back down and flipping the bird – Mark would have gone mad if he'd seen.

The community center was full of socs. Only a couple greasers like them – all girls – had come along to try acting too, so the girls sat together in the auditorium seats. On the floor in front of the stage stood a tall, chubby young woman in a daisy yellow sundress, holding a bunch of papers in her hands. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five.

"My name is Edith Bates. Once y'all are seated, I'm gonna hand around this paper, and y'all sign your names and phone numbers on it. So I know who's here and who's gonna be here all summer. Once I get it back, we can go over the rules, then start some exercises!"

Edith's "exercises" turned out to be a lot of fun. They got together in groups and picked characters from movies or books to act like, and did a lot of improvising. They played some get-to-know-each-other games too, and the socs didn't even make fun of anyone. The girls didn't giggle to each other and the boys didn't pop off with rude remarks.

It was amazing – exactly what Sophie felt she needed. She got a lot of compliments on her quick wit – which she never thought she had – and Ruby got to show off some pretty cool dance moves. The class went on for an hour, and at the end Edith called to everyone not to forget to come next Saturday at the same time – eleven o'clock in the morning.

For an entire hour, Sophie hadn't thought of anything but having fun.

"We need to do stuff like this more often," Sophie said happily as she and Ruby headed over to the Ribbon for lunch at Hogan's. She wasn't planning on eating, but maybe a cherry pineapple 7-Up would be okay. She really missed them, and she'd done so much walking already …

They were seated in a booth, Sophie with her drink and Ruby with her hamburger and fries and soda, before she answered. "I dunno. What other kinda stuff?"

Sophie shrugged. "Maybe we could do charity. Or get part-time jobs."

Ruby laughed. "You gotta be kiddin' me. I ain't wastin' my time makin' food for dogs or somethin'."

"Yeah, I guess," Sophie muttered, sipping her 7-Up. Maybe she'd just have to look for these things by herself. She couldn't be happy sitting around doing nothing all day, and going to parties every night like Ruby and the other girls.

"Have you seen Mark lately?" Ruby asked through a mouthful. "He's been askin' about you."

"Probably looking to lecture me about Curly," Sophie sighed, brought back down to Earth. "Well he doesn't have to waste his breath now. We're over, I told you."

"I dunno," Ruby said in a tone Sophie didn't like. It was half bugged, half teasing. "I think he might be sweet on you."

"That's gross," Sophie laughed, no longer worried. Ruby was always thinking crazy things like that. She thought the world was a movie and she was its star, and romance and action were everywhere around her. She was crazy, but she was Sophie's best friend.

**x x x**

Joel woke up face-down on the couch, an arm thrown over his waist. A little wiggling and rolling over and he was face-to-face with a shirtless Freddy. His first instinct was to shuffle in closer and hug Freddy back, but he knew better and didn't want to get his head beat in, so he slowly and carefully shuffled off the couch and down to the bathroom.

He splashed cold water on his face to wake him up, his head pounding. He could barely remember last night; nothing but holding Curly down and being punched and leaving Mark at his own house for the night. After that – and even parts of that – it was all a blur. And Joel didn't like that.

When he came back out into the kitchen, Freddy was up and making coffee and pouring cereal. He didn't look sore anywhere at all, and he grinned roguishly when he heard Joel's footsteps at the end of the hallway.

"Mornin'," he said, even though the clock said it was just past twelve. "How's your head?"

"Poundin'," Joel groaned, sitting down at the kitchen table. Freddy put a bowl of milk and Cheerios in front of him. Joel gratefully dug in.

"How d'you think Curly's feelin'?" Freddy chuckled, sitting down with his own breakfast.

Joel shook his head. "I don't even wanna think about it. Why'd we do that?"

"'Cause he was fuckin' around with Mark an' fuckin' around with your sister." Freddy was looking serious now. "This is long from over Baker so you might as well get used to it now 'cause there ain't no backin' out. You're in this for good."

Joel nodded, looking down at the table, and Freddy ruffled his hair like a little kid. "Let's go see Mark. See how he's doin' this mornin'."

**x x x**

Tim finally went in to see his brother.

"How ya feelin'?" Tim asked, slouching down in a wooden chair beside the bed.

Curly scoffed. "How d'you think I'm feelin'?"

Tim shrugged. He wasn't very good at bedside manners and wasn't sure what to say to his kid brother. He still felt guilty about Sophie, and besides, it was probably Curly's fault he was in this stupid mess in the first place.

"Who did it?" Tim asked anyway.

"Brumly," Curly said, not opening his eyes. "Baker an' Butler an' Green an' Foreman. Jumped me in the alley, cut me up."

"An' what did you do to them to make 'em mad?"

Curly shrugged, and winced as pain shot through every nerve in his body. Just breathing hurt, but he couldn't stop doing that even though he wanted to sometimes. "Nothin'."

Tim perked up a little but didn't say a word. Curly was a liar at the best of times, but if he was telling the truth right now … Tim wasn't going to just sit around and let anyone try to kill his brother. He'd make sure all Hell broke loose. Nobody in Brumly would be safe.

"Your little girlfriend come visit you yet?" Tim joked lightly.

Curly grimaced. "She ain't my girlfriend."

Tim shrugged and lit a cigarette, putting it to Curly's lips for a few puffs before finishing the rest himself. He stuck around for a little while, just shooting the shit and finding out when Curly would be allowed to go home and what was wrong with him and how much it would cost. The entire time Curly kept his eyes closed, so it was a few minutes before Tim realized he'd fallen asleep.

He looked a lot younger in his sleep, Curly did. His face was paled against the lumpy pillow, and his hair was messy, full of grease but not slicked back anymore. He looked ridiculous with his curls all over the place.

Tim ruffled his brother's hair and patted him on the cheek, a soft slap, before walking out.


	14. haunted

_This is an extremely short chapter. I just wanted to get something up to assure everyone that I am still here! I'm still writing! But my computer crashed and I had to go get it fixed, which is why I wasn't able to get on and put anything up. But I'm here now, and I'll be putting up chapters regularly again, and I am so sorry about my absence. It won't happen again! So much love to my reviewers, you know who you beautiful people are, and thank you so much for being patient with me. and thank you to any new readers who don't shoot me down for the length (or lackthereof) of this chapter. xoxox, Carolyn._

* * *

><p><em>You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time<br>but I never thought I'd live to see it break_

As it turned out, Mark wasn't at home. They searched all over the place, from the Ribbon to the high school, and even at the DX, but he wasn't anywhere. Freddy was getting worked up and pissed off, jumping around a little, shaking out his hands so he wouldn't clench them. "I'm gettin' real tired of that kid," he said through clenched teeth. "What the hell is he thinkin'?"

"I'm sure he's just out somewhere, his every move ain't to wreck you or nothin'," Joel defended. They were driving back over to the Ribbon in Joel's car, looking for Ruby, thinking she might have an idea of where her brother had gone off to. It wasn't very hard to find the kids these days, so they headed straight for Hogan's. At night they could be anywhere, but during the day they were either at the park, messing around in the drugstore, or having a soda at the diner.

Ruby and Sophie were in the back booth giggling about stupid things – who liked who, and what would happen if this girl married this guy, and who was rumoured to be pregnant – so Joel didn't feel bad at all about interrupting them. Sophie looked at him coolly, clearly still angry for all the fighting – and he had new bruises to show now, too – so he slid into the booth beside Ruby and let Freddy take the seat with his sister.

"You seen your brother lately?" Joel asked, putting his arm on the back of the seat. Ruby grinned shyly, and Sophie rolled her eyes. He wasn't _hitting _on her, but Ruby didn't seem to be able to tell.

"No I haven't," Ruby giggled, "but why don't you stick around here for a while with us?"

**x x x**

He hadn't spoken to his brother for a week. He hadn't been _home_ in a week; sleeping on couches and on porches, and when he couldn't find a friend to stay with he'd curl up in an alleyway with his knife in his hand until sunrise. He couldn't look at Tim again. Tim had messed everything up before Curly even had a chance to fix it and right now he didn't think he could control himself if he saw his brother's face again.

When he'd been let out of the hospital, and Tim had given him a ride home, he'd spilled everything. Tim told Curly about the Texans, about tossing their bodies in the lake, and why he'd slept with Sophie Baker. He thought Curly would understand, see it from Tim's point of view, get what he'd had to live with since he was just a kid. But Curly didn't get it. And Tim stopped the car, and that was the last he'd seen of his brother for a week or more.

**x x x**

It was like nothing had ever happened. As the days wore on and Sophie hung out with her friends, forgave her brother, and began volunteering at the animal shelter, it was easy to push Curly and Tim Shepard out of her mind. She continued to go to the acting group, and practiced hard for the tryouts for Hamlet that were coming up at the beginning of July. She began eating again, just a little bit here and there, and Ruby never said anything about her eating habits. Laura still threw in snide remarks here and there, but she was just furious that James was going with Dana now and she had to take it out on someone. Joel spent most of his time with Freddy, Sophie went to a couple of movies with Mark, Ruby began going steady with Lucas, and Sophie didn't think anything about it when she missed her period near the end of June.


	15. the background

_A bit of a longer one, because of my absence. Hope you still like it! I do have a plan on where this is going, I've got ideas, I'm not just rambling on and I do regret to tell you that I see the end on the horizon. But depending on which ending I chose, I may have a sequel! And even so there are a handful-plus more chapters coming up so don't feel down! Lots more coming at you! xoxo, Carolyn._

* * *

><p><em>I would never lie to you, no, I would never lie to you<br>I felt you long after we were through, we were through _

"Now, the part of Hamlet is a very delicate part," Edith explained, walking back and forth at the front of the auditorium. Everyone was grouped into the front two rows, staring at the clipboard in her hand that held the results of the tryouts. In her other hand was the scripts, but nobody was interested in that yet. They just wanted to know if they'd been good enough to be cast in a part at all.

"He starts off normal, average, sane," she continued slowly and mysteriously, "then begins to act entirely insane. He pretends to lose his mind – but is he really pretending? Or in all of this, has he actually gone insane? He drives the woman he loves to kill herself – is that the act of a mentally healthy man?"

Sophie was practically vibrating in her seat with jitters, and beside her, Ruby was bouncing her leg at almost violent speeds. They'd both tried out for the role of Ophelia – Hamlet's jilted lover – and it had been a good-natured competition with them all through the two weeks of tryouts and waiting. They'd even made Joel, Freddy, and Mark sit down and watch them each perform a scene, then vote on who was better. Sophie won, but they both suspected that it was just because Joel _had _to vote for his sister and Mark had a crush on her.

"Freddy knows real talent when he sees it though," Ruby had said haughtily, flouncing out of the living room, with Sophie following along behind laughing like mad. They'd both put Freddy's upcoming trial out of their minds, along with the gang war that had nothing to do with them personally. Sophie knew Joel and Freddy and all the boys were still planning things, still fighting, still doing everything she wished her brother wouldn't, but she decided that it was his business and his bruises.

Edith went on excitedly, "so our Hamlet is going to be … David Warner!"

Everyone clapped, and a bunch of people slapped the soc on the back. He was an alright guy, Sophie supposed, but he'd also been one of the guys who tried to drown Ponyboy Curtis a few years back, so she disliked him on principle. She tried to talk to him as little as possible, and although she was always courteous, she and Ruby cracked jokes about him behind his back.

Edith casted all of Hamlet's friends, Polonius, King Claudius, Laertes, and Queen Gertrude – the role that Ruby won, to much applaud and a hug from Sophie – before getting around to Ophelia. Six girls, Sophie included, were waiting with bated breath for the result, for any girl not cast in this role would end up as an extra or, even worse, cast in a male role.

"Ophelia is another most delicate character," Edith explained. She'd gone over everyone, even though they'd all read the characters at the beginning of the playbook and been briefed on their part before trying out. "She's driven mad by the man she loves, because on one hand, her father and brother are telling her that he's just using her for sex and that's not right. But her heart – and Hamlet – says he loves her. Then he turns on her and calls her a whore, more or less." Everyone giggled at the word, but they hushed up immediately when Edith began reading off her clipboard. "The role of Ophelia – naturally –" and she gave a little laugh "—will be Sophie Baker."

Sophie was in shock. She hadn't really been that good, had she? She'd messed up at least a hundred times! But Ruby hugged her tight and everyone called congratulations, and Edith passed her a photocopied script, and she really had gotten the role! She was going to portray Ophelia in a play that the whole town might come to at the end of July! Her head was spinning pleasantly.

"Next week we'll get started on our first read through. I only want to do two before we get started on acting, because we've got limited time! So please, please, _please,_" Edith begged, "start practicing at home this week!"

"Man, Ophelia!" Sophie said happily, pushing the community center door open with her shoulder and stepping out backwards into the sunlight. It was only getting hotter as the days wore on and the short shorts and tee shirt she was dressed in felt like far too many clothes. It was high time they made a trip to one of the lakes – the socs always took the public swimming pools, so there weren't many other options.

Ruby smiled supportively. "I'd never be able to memorize all those lines."

"I don't know how I'm going to," Sophie laughed, rolling her eyes a little. She really hadn't been expecting any part at all; thought she'd be getting stage crew like all the other untalented girls and boys who just came for the fun of it. "Want to go to the lake?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Ruby agreed. "We'll get Mark to drive us. He ain't been goin' out as much anymore, he'll probably be home."

Mark was home, and he consented to driving them down to one of the lakes – the one with a sandy bottom, not sharp, jagged rocks that cut your feet and ruined your afternoon – as long as he could stick around. Things were apparently heating up between the Shepard gang and Brumly outfit, and the lakes were in too vague a territory.

"You just want to see Sophie in her bathing suit," Ruby accused when Sophie dashed down the street to grab her suit and a towel.

Mark shrugged. "Job perks." Ruby smacked his arm.

**x x x**

Robin was seated on his lap with her head resting against his shoulder. They were playing a movie in the ward for all the kids, and she'd requested that Joel be there to watch it with her. She still wasn't talking, but she'd scribbled a picture of her and Joel at a drive-in, and the nurses got the idea and phoned him up. He'd considered asking Sophie to come to, but decided against it in the end. She didn't remember anything, didn't even know where the scar on her back had come from, and he wanted to keep it that way. Joel had fed her some story when Robin had gone away, about some guys who had pulled a blade on her and scared her something awful, and she seemed to believe it without much question. But she'd never asked to go see Robin, and he'd never offered to take her.

Sometimes he wondered if she knew more than she let on.

He asked about seeing his mother when he'd come in, but they said no. She'd been causing too much trouble and getting too out of hand, it just wouldn't be good to reward that kind of behaviour. It got under his skin that they were treating his mother like a child, or worse, like a dog, but what could he do? He couldn't take her home. He couldn't do anything for her.

He wasn't paying much attention to the film – just rubbing Robin's back, and letting his mind wander. Tension was thick with his gang and Shepard's. It had to snap soon, he could feel it coming, then it would be war. Freddy's trial was in two days; he hoped it'd be closed court. It would do no good to have Tim's boys hanging around during it. Tim was part of the proceedings too, because he'd been there when it happened and it was one of his boys who went down.

Tim got him thinking of Curly, then cursing and praising any god who was listening that his sister had smartened up and stopped hanging around him. Mark had told him about all the times that he knew of that she'd been with him, but he'd decided not to even mention it to her. It would just drive her closer to that little worm. Instead he'd acted like he didn't know a thing, and it had worked – she'd been spending all her time with him, or Ruby and those girls, or volunteering at that animal shelter she loved so much that she didn't have a second of spare time to spend with him. The only boy she'd been going on dates with lately was Mark, and he was completely okay with that, blessed it a thousand times over.

Then he thought about himself. He didn't do that often, because he was so many different things to so many different people and that seemed to always be more important than being Joel to himself. He was a father of sorts to Sophie; the only source of comfort to poor, messed-up Robin; he'd lost his job – though he was hiding that from Sophie – so he was no longer a very successful caregiver because they would turn the power off in the first week of July if he didn't come up with the money somehow. To Freddy he was a lieutenant, and to Mark a best friend and he was Tim Shepard's enemy.

He wasn't _funny,_ or _strong_ or even _attractive_ – he was just things to people. He wondered what would happen if he just packed up and left. If he took Robin out of here and told Sophie to fill a suitcase, and they all drove away for good? They could go to California; Sophie was always talking about it at home, she loved it there.

But then Robin whimpered and hid her face, because a gun-toting man with a beard and a heavy Texan accent sauntered onto the screen and Joel knew that he couldn't go anywhere.

**x x x**

Curly Shepard was cleaning under his fingernails with his knife. It wasn't a very safe practice, and he didn't much care about how clean his hands looked, but he needed to be doing something. He hadn't been home in too long; his clothes were dirty and wrinkled, he hadn't showered in three days, and he was just _tired_. A few times he considered sneaking over to Sophie's, checking if Joel's car was there and trying to explain everything to her.

But what was there to explain? He'd taken her for granted. He'd just assumed that she'd lie down and take any crap he gave her like the other girls had, but Sophie wasn't like other girls. When he walked away from her, walked out the gate of the drive-in, it was unspoken but loud and ringing in his ears: he wasn't welcome back. He'd thrown away the only girl he loved so that he could go get the shit beaten out of him and not even do what he had intended to do, which he could barely remember anymore: a half-assed plan, poking and prodding the sleeping bear.

Because he did love her. You couldn't get so wrapped up in someone and not love them, Curly reckoned. Every breath he took was for her; every thought was her, every move he made. It was stupid and unheard of, and he wasn't the type to go crazy over anyone and they'd barely been together for more than a couple days. But he felt like he could spend the rest of his life with her, and that would be just fine with him.

Then she'd gone and slept with Tim. Well, he couldn't blame her. It boiled his blood, drove him mad, physically made his chest hurt with every inhale, but he couldn't blame her. He'd left her in pieces and Tim came along with a needle and thread and that was all there was to it. But he could hate Tim, and he did. Tim hadn't been hurt only an hour or so before; hadn't been broken up with and insulted – because God, what had he been thinking? She was losing weight, getting too skinny, and he'd called her fat, what kind of a man was he? He wasn't a man at all – he'd just been looking to get laid and there she'd been, small and delicate and innocent. And he took it from her.

His hands were clenched and shaking. Every time he thought about it he thought he would explode. How could his body hold in the rage?

He got up and started pacing up and down the length of the piss-scented alleyway. It was afternoon and the sun was hot, and his black tee shirt was sticking to his back with sweat. He walked one end to the other, over and over, kicking rocks and slamming his hand into the brick walls and once he almost cried, but Shepards didn't cry so he didn't do that. Then he decided to go home.

It was a split-second decision, and one he surely would have decided against if he'd given himself more time to think, but he acted on it the moment it slipped into his head. He smoked four cigarettes on his speed-walk, not stopping to even nod at anyone who waved at him or shouted his name. He didn't have time to see anyone. He wanted to have a shower and change his clothes and grease his hair – because it was curling around his forehead and the back of his neck and ears and looked mighty stupid – before Tim came home. Because Tim wouldn't be home yet, he could just feel it.

**x x x**

Sophie examined herself in Ruby's bedroom mirror, turning this way and that while Ruby was on the other side of the room changing into her own swimsuit.

She had a pair of shorts on overtop of her bathing suit, but her shirt was clenched in her hand so she could examine her flat stomach and ask, "Do I look okay in this?" It had been an on-a-whim purchase in California: a blue-and-white bikini. It was simple and striped, but still showed off her entire stomach and the chest she didn't have.

"You look fine," Ruby sighed – having answered the same question three times already – as she put her shorts and blouse back over her corset-style black and white suit. Sophie tugged her own tee shirt back on too and followed Ruby out into Mark's truck idling in the driveway. He was in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt; not swimming shorts, just a pair of cut-off jeans – greasers didn't set much in store for the cabana-style swimming outfits in style, and thank God for that, Sophie thought, because the tight little shorts looked kind of silly on men.

There were only a few other greasers kicking around. Dana and James were there, along with a couple of James' friends; Laura and an older greaser were making out on the hood of his car, clearly trying to make James jealous; a couple girls from the acting classes were there; and a group of boys were trying to dunk each other under in the water. It was mainly a greaser beach, because socs didn't go to the lakes to swim, they went to drink and fool around in backseats and show off.

"Ruby!" Dana shouted, waving them over. "Sophie!"

The whole group was just in their bathing suits – Dana had a two-piece too, in bright colours – but she filled it out a lot nicer. It was only tentatively that she pulled off her shorts and tee shirt and jogged along the grass over to James' car. Mark kept his eyes on the girls the whole way, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he was really only looking at her.

Dana hugged them both around the neck, and James nodded solemnly. "I didn't know you two were comin' today!"

"Is it a special occasion?" Ruby asked, confused. She looked at Sophie, who shrugged her pale shoulders, then back to an amused Dana.

"Of course it is! It's James' birthday!"

"Oooh," Ruby said knowingly, like it had just slipped her mind for a minute. "Right. Happy birthday, James!"

"Yeah," Sophie echoed with far less emotion, "happy birthday."

Someone passed Ruby a beer bottle from the trunk of a car. They tried to hand one off to Sophie too but she shook her head. She hadn't liked the feeling when she'd drank at Buck's, and definitely hadn't liked the taste. Besides, Mark was watching and doubtless he'd tell Joel.

"D'you want to go in the water?" Dana asked, theatrically wiping her forehead. "It's so hot!" She had a real high-pitched, Southern voice; more of an accent than any girl Sophie knew. It was cute, and made her laugh a little.

Ruby put her bottle down on the grass in a pile of others and let Dana tug her along. Sophie followed behind until she caught Mark's eye and he waved her over. He'd backed into the parking lot – a gravel semi-circle that eased into grass, then sand then water – and was sitting on the bed of the truck. He, too, had a bottle of beer in his hand, but his came from a case in the backseat.

She hauled herself up beside him and pulled her knees to her chest so he couldn't see the way her skin rolled a little on her tummy. He didn't look at her right away, instead stared out at the way the sun glinted off the lake, made it glitter like a sea of diamonds. She rested her head on his arm, not quite tall enough to reach his shoulder, and he played a little with the long, thick tendrils of blonde hair that swung forward.

Then he kissed her on the top of the head, pulled a ring off his finger – a thick, silver ring with a blue jewel in the center, manly enough for him to wear but still beautiful, that his father had given him – threaded it onto a delicate silver chain from his pocket, and clipped it around her neck.

And that was how Sophie Baker began going steady with Mark Butler.

**x x x**

Tim didn't get home until around two o'clock. Curly was showered and re-greased, with a change of clothes, sitting on the couch with the television off waiting for him.

"Decided to come home," Tim commented with the awkward air of someone pretending he's done nothing wrong. "Ma's been worried."

He took a swig of milk from the bottle, and when he turned around his brother was right in his face. Curly was a little shorter, a little meatier, but sometimes it was like looking into an off sort of mirror. It was almost like his own fist swinging right into his face, breaking his nose for the fourth time.


	16. the background pt 2

_IT HAS BEEN WAY TOO LONG, I know. A lot has been going on in my life though (moving, being sick, and I've gone on a couple dates with a boy haha) and I just didn't have the time or the energy to come up with a new chapter. But I'm back on track, I'm settled in and things with the boy have cooled down (almost to the point of not existing anymore, awh) so I will have WAAY more time to get chapters up and finish the story! I hope you all still love me, and I hope my new readers will love me too. xoxo, Carolyn._

* * *

><p><em>The plans I made still have you in them<br>'cause you come swimming into view  
>and I'm hanging on your words like I always used to do<br>the words they use so lightly I only feel for you  
>I only know because I carry you around in the background<em>

Freddy looked directly into his eyes – brown, a little small in his face, with dark eyelashes – and when he tried to look away, Freddy put his palms flat on the sides of his head. His hands weren't that big, didn't quite stretch from hairline to chin, but they were strong, scarred, and steady, and he couldn't turn away.

Freddy's eyes were intense. He'd never seen eyes so pale, ice blue bordering on purple. They were round and shiny, and his pupils were dilated from all the mushrooms. It was his first time doing them – both of them – and the effects were like nothing they'd experienced before. Everything was bright and fuzzy, mixing and beautiful.

"I love you," Freddy mumbled, swaying a little. He wanted to push him down onto the bed and never let him back up, but he didn't know if he could. Was he allowed? Who cared? He was Freddy Green and he could do whatever the hell he wanted, and besides, he was going to court in the morning and this might be his last chance.

"Freddy, what –"

Freddy said, "Shh, just shut up okay just shut the fuck up."

Then he kissed him, finally. Freddy kissed him after years of dreaming of it, of imagining how soft his lips were – they weren't, which made it even better – and how he'd wrap his arms around Freddy's waist – he did, and tight. It was better than anything. His head buzzed.

**x x x**

When the evening fell and it cooled down, Mark and Sophie drove out to the park and had a Coke and water, respectively, sitting on the edge of the fountain. Mark chattered on about the gang, about wanting to get out and do something with himself, and about how long he'd admired her and how jealous he was that she'd gone out to California. Sophie sat quietly, fiddling with the ring around her neck, not looking him in the eye. She couldn't even look at his face, because it didn't look right. It didn't have midnight eyes, or curly black hair. There were no scars or cuts or bruises from a beating from his brother.

It wasn't right because it wasn't Curly's face, and that was all she wanted to see.

"Are you okay?"

Mark broke into her thoughts, putting his hand on her thigh. She shifted over, slid away from him and put her arms around her stomach. "I just feel a little sick. I think I'm going to walk home."

"Walk? No, lemme give you a ride…"

"No." She stood up quickly, practically jumped away from him. "No, it's fine. I need the fresh air."

She consented to a small kiss on the lips and a tight hug before walking away from him, promising that she'd call when she got home and they'd see each other tomorrow and go out for dinner, and he'd help her and Ruby run their lines.

The night air was refreshing, and the dark calmed her mind. It made it easier to think, to put things into perspective – she'd said yes to Mark because it had seemed like the right thing to do, the obvious thing. He was her brother's best friend and her best friend's brother, and she couldn't deny that he was handsome. But Curly made her feel excited, made her nerves tingle and her head go light. It was like he was swimming through her veins, like an addiction.

It was easy to pretend to ignore him, to act like she wasn't thinking about him. She buried herself in friends and acting and the animal shelter, in everything she could think of – even Mark – but it was all a lie, and the lies you told yourself were the weakest lies of all.

But she'd ruined it. Maybe they'd ruined it together, but the point was that it was destroyed and all that was left was ruins. Romance novels didn't tell you how to fix things because in novels, things never fell apart. They really hadn't prepared her for the real world at all.

If Ruby knew any of this, she'd beat Sophie around the head. It almost made Sophie laugh just thinking about it, because when she'd run back out into the water to join her friends and she'd told Ruby what had just happened, the girl had gotten so excited she almost drowned in all her floundering and squealing. As much as she didn't care for her best friend and brother to date, she thought it was right out of a romance novel, and it was perfect.

Romance novels again. Ha.

Absentmindedly, as she wandered across the empty street towards the elementary school playground, Sophie slipped the chain with the ring on it off her neck and stuck it into her pocket. It was gaudy and ugly and bumped uncomfortably on her collarbone. It was like a prison.

**x x x**

He saw her, like a dream, drifting through the gate and towards the strange spider-like structure he'd fallen in love with her at. Her hair was a little frizzy, like it'd been soaking wet then dried by the sun lately, curly and tangled all down her back. Her face was still hardly tanned by the Oklahoma sun. It was one of the many things about her that he couldn't get over.

He imagined he could smell her floral scent from all the way across the field. Her smile could dazzle him, if only she'd smile, sense he was there and look to him, run to him, fall in love with him too. But she just went right on and slipped off her shoes and climbed up the bars to sit in one of the circles and daydream. He didn't care that she'd had sex with Tim – it was his fault anyway, his fault for pushing her away and acting like he didn't care about her. Everything was his fault but he was scared to try and fix it, scared that she'd slap him and call him horrible and tell him she never wanted to see him again. If she ever said she hated him, he'd probably die.

It didn't matter that he was only eighteen because Sophie Baker had to be the love of his life.

His hand was still sore, throbbing a little around the cigarette in his fingers. Tim hadn't fought back. He knew he'd deserved what was coming to him, but Curly hadn't stopped punching for at least ten minutes, until Tim's face was like minced meat, as bad as Curly's had been after two beatings in one week. His eyebrow was scarred. He hated everything; for the longest time he was nothing but angry and hateful and desperately reckless. But just seeing Sophie's face made everything okay for a minute.

He was about to step forward, follow the little dirt path to the spider gym and pull himself up beside her and tell her he loved her – no messing around, no beating around the bush, no bullshit – but suddenly out of the darkness, Mark Butler appeared, Sophie's brother's little bitch, and stood in front of Sophie and put his hands on her thighs, and she didn't push them away.

But she didn't really look at him, either.

"Hey, Shepard!"

Curly started, then whipped around, flipping out his switchblade. He was so jumpy lately, but who could blame him? If you went through what he did, you would be jumpy too. It was only Scott Bradley and his little ten-year-old brother Ryan.

"You playin' nanny?" Curly asked, putting his blade away, covering for his moment of weakness with an attempt at scathing humour.

"You playin' stalker?" Scott returned. Ryan looked back and forth between them like it was a tennis match. There was something wrong with his brain, Scott said when he was born. He might be ten physically, but in his mind he wasn't a day over five or something. A real quiet kid.

Curly shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette. "Just wonderin' what Butler's doin' on our turf is all."

"He's hardly Brumly gang anymore," Scott laughed. "He ain't been in any of the fights, last I heard Green was ready to take him out. Said he couldn't trust him or somethin'."

"Where'd ya hear that?" Last time Curly had seen Mark, he'd definitely had Freddy and Co. for backup. And now he was putting his hands all over Curly's girl. It was enough to make his blood boil so high he might explode. He bet she didn't know. He hoped she didn't know what he'd done. Would she be with him if she knew he'd tried to kill Curly?

He was starting to sound like a damn girl. Sophie was like a drug: physically and mentally addicting, but bad for him in every way possible.

Scott said, "Around. Hey, you want to go hunt up some action on the Ribbon? This kid attracts chicks like honey drawn flies."

Curly thought about it a minute, then said, "Yeah, I do. Let's go." And he meant it, because maybe getting Sophie back wasn't such a good idea after all. She was going to ruin him – his reputation, his mind, his family. Was some chick worth all that?

He followed Scott out of the field, and towards Scott's car. The stars were glittering bright above him, and he picked out Orion immediately by looking for the three stars that were his belt. Sophie had taught him that.

He accidentally crushed his cigarette in his hand, burning his palm, but he didn't feel it at all.

**x x x**

Mark kicked at the dirt and sent a rock sailing at the bars. It connected with a loud _ping _that echoed through the empty schoolyard. He was clenching his ring in his fist, the pointed top pinching his palm into the base of his fingers.

"Not even a day," he laughed humourlessly. "Shortest relationship I've ever been in."

Sophie watched the dust clouds at his feet. "Only one I've been in."

He was trying to understand, but she wasn't explaining it very well. "I have some personal issues to sort through" wasn't very clear to him, but she couldn't just blurt out why she was so messed up – not eating, the Shepard boys, worrying over Joel and worrying about why she never worried about Robin and thinking maybe there was just really something wrong with her. She had to be a bad person. Maybe she'd burn up if she tried to go into a church.

"I love you, Mark," she said quietly. "I'm just not in love with you."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Joel always said Mark was a smart guy – one of the smartest he knew – but Sophie didn't believe that anymore. He was just a jerk.


	17. push

_Not my best piece of work, but I hope you like it anyway. And thank you to my one lovely reviewer who's still with me xoxo and just a reminder that I THRIVE on reviews! :) The more reviews I get, the harder I work to get chapters up asap! xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>She said, I don't know why you ever would lie to me<br>like I'm a little untrusting, when I think that the truth is  
>gonna hurt you. And I don't know why you couldn't just<br>stay with me, you couldn't stand to be near me when my face  
>don't seem to want to shine, 'cause it's a little bit dirty <em>

They only gave her six crayons – red, blue, green, purple, yellow, black – but that was enough for her. So maybe someone would have purple hair, and everyone had on blue jeans, but she wasn't trying to create a masterpiece here. It didn't take a twenty-eight Crayola pack to scribble the lake, or the dry fields behind it. She could get the dirty men's faces down in just black, with a little bit of red on their fingers because Sophie had been bleeding. She'd been bleeding, too.

And she'd been awake for all of it.

She thought about Sophie as she coloured in her long hair with yellow, although it should have been whiter than anything. She wished that she had white-blonde hair like that, instead of boring brown hair. Brown hair didn't catch any eyes, and she wanted to be a movie star one day.

"What a pretty picture!" a nurse cooed over her shoulder. They were always getting in your business, no matter what you were doing. Sometimes they even walked in on you peeing and didn't seem to care at all. They'd just go on with their business while you sat there with your pants down and your knees pressed together.

The nurse pointed, "Is that your family?"

She shook her head. No, that was her and her sister, and the two men from Texas who had taken everything from her that she thought she could keep safe. They'd taken away her decisions, and her innocence; the things she was supposed to be able to give away to someone she loved when the time felt right. And they'd taken away Sophie, too, because she'd never come to visit. Not once, not ever, and from the sounds of things she never would.

Because she was scared. Because she remembered, too. She had to remember, too. She'd been awake for the whole thing too.

**x x x**

"So, school's startin' soon," Ruby commented. She was lying on the grass in the public park, looking over at Sophie who was on top of the tire swing strung up in the oak tree. They both had scripts in one hand and a highlighter marker in the other. Someone in their acting group had suggested that everyone highlight their lines in their scripts so they never missed one, and Sophie and Ruby thought that was a great idea.

"Isn't," Sophie countered, not even glancing over. "It's only the third."

"School starts on the twentieth of August," Ruby mused. "And we'll be in grade nine."

"Big deal. It's still just middle school."

Ruby shrugged. "It's somethin' to look forward to. All we got ahead of us is an empty summer. Lucas dumped me, you dumped Mark, Laura's off with fifty different guys a week an' Joel an' Freddy are at that trial an' who knows how long that's gonna last."

"Not all summer. And we have the play to look forward to."

"I guess." They were silent for a few minutes, then Ruby asked, "have you talked to Curly lately? He's outta the hospital."

Sophie perked up, but tried to act casual when she asked, "Curly was in the hospital? What for?"

She had a juicy piece of gossip, Ruby could sense, and a lot of power in her hand. This event was definitely going into her autobiography – she'd started writing one – but … perhaps she'd reverse the roles a little. Sophie was on an intense romantic rollercoaster and she didn't even know it! How could such a beautiful girl be so pathetically clueless? Especially with her anorexia – yes, Ruby knew. It was impossible to miss, what with her never eating anymore, always seeming a little sleepy, covering her stomach, fiddling with her hair. It was perfect, but she wasn't using it. Ruby had tried to help, but she just didn't get it, so the most she could do was put it in her novel and maybe things would turn out way better with her, Ruby, at the wheel.

"He got beat up by someone," she explained. "No one knows who, but it was probably one of our boys. He got it bad, too. Cut his face and everything."

Sophie's face paled, but she just turned back to her script. "That's too bad. He should watch himself." But her brain was working overtime. Why hadn't anyone bothered to mention it to her? And why hadn't he phoned her to tell her? Who cared that they were split up? She still loved him!

Sophie hopped off the tire swing and rolled her script up to slip into her back pocket. "Hey, I'm gonna head out okay? I have volunteering today."

"On a Sunday?"

"Yeah," Sophie said over her shoulder, gripping the paper in her hand. It would never stay in her pocket when she cleared the fence and began running at full speed, not even trying to hear what Ruby was shouting after her. One of them had to put their pride aside, and she was going to be the one to do it. She had to find out what happened to Curly and make sure he was okay. She had to …

**x x x**

Tim Shepard's bare feet slapped on the kitchen linoleum as he tiredly padded through the kitchen towards the front door. Someone on the other side was banging on it like they were trying to break it down, and if they didn't stop it was going to wake up his mother, and that was the last thing he needed. She was asleep in the back room, trying to sleep off a hangover. Tim was just sleeping off a master beating courtesy of his little brother – his face was swollen, bruised, and broken – but his head was pounding like he'd drank a whole bottle of vodka to himself in one go.

"What? What?" he asked grumpily, practically leaning on the door to keep him up with a muscled arm on the doorknob. The girl on the porch wasn't one he thought he'd ever see around there again – Sophie Baker, in the flesh, looking a little pale and harried but as beautiful – and skinny! – as always.

She seemed to back away from him a little when she looked at his face, and he had an idea that it wasn't because of how mangled it was. He kind of wanted to do the same thing.

"Um … is … is Curly home?"

She was nervous but her voice was steady. It almost made him chuckle. He recognized that attitude; it had been what had drawn him to her that night in the first place. It was also what was turning him off her now. He wasn't looking for a wife; he was looking for a different girl every night that'd get out of his bed before the morning. No, Sophie was what Curly needed, and from the looks of things, she still needed him too.

So he didn't feel so great when he said, "nope. He was at a party last night, never came home." Because there was only one thing Curly Shepard went to a party for.

"Well can you take me there?" She had no clue where it was and wasn't in the mood to walk; today was cooling down fast with a picking up breeze, and her tee shirt and shorts didn't make a good windbreaker. The morning had started off as sunny and hot as any other, but that was changing rapidly.

Tim grabbed his jean jacket from the hook by the door and pulled his shoes on. He checked the pockets of the coat as he pulled it on and followed Sophie down the porch steps and towards the T-Bird he'd switched Buck Merrill for last month. It was the best deal he'd ever made; that stupid, drunk hick didn't know a sedan from a whale, and took the trade like Tim was offering him gold bars.

If he thought she'd shy away from him in the car, he was right, but she didn't seem small, like a kicked kitten. Her face was set and her little fists were shaking hard. So it really wasn't a surprise when she exploded, "why was Curly in the hospital? And how come no one told me?"

Tim chuckled. What a little firecracker. "'Cause your boys ganged up and jumped him. Cut him up real bad." He didn't want to say why no one had told her – because Curly left her, because she slept with Tim, because they were so messed up that they were just perfect for each other. They could go down in flames together; because that was the only path he could see Curly on right now. The kid was losing it. He was a wreck.

Sophie didn't like that. Hearing it from Tim was a lot more serious than hearing it from Rumour Mill Ruby, because Tim never embellished, never pumped things up to make them more exciting. Tim didn't want to live a romantic movie.

"Hey," Sophie asked, finally realizing something, "how come you're not at the trial?" It was his boy who had died, shouldn't he be there?

"I ain't gotta be there 'til tomorrow."

She had no idea how trials worked, especially for murder, but that seemed to make enough sense. Joel had told her that she wasn't allowed to sit in and watch any of it because of what they'd talk about and the nightmares it would give her again, but she hadn't really wanted to go in the first place. The whole thing sounded boring, and Freddy could charm his way out of anything. There was no way he'd get more than a couple months in the cooler.

They were heading to Russell Hadley's. He had thrown a party to celebrate his little brother Martin getting into a real good school on a scholarship. The Hadley family was going places, that was for sure. They weren't going to let an alcoholic father and a stripper mother hold them back from anything. It was admirable, but wishful thinking. Russell was still on the wrong side of the road. Tim didn't even bother trying; he knew where he was going to die. And probably die young.

**x x x**

Joel lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The wind was blowing through his size-too-big suit like it was tissue paper and chilling his skin, but he was thankful for the fresh air and the relaxing feel of the smoke down his throat. The trial wasn't anything like he'd expected and Freddy's ass was on the line more than he ever expected. The judge wasn't falling for his charm. He was really in trouble.

It was weird to imagine anyone not falling for Freddy's charm. Joel had fallen head over heels for it, and after last night he could barely breathe just looking in his eyes. It was the ugliest, most disgusting thing he'd ever done in his life, they were the ugliest men in Tulsa, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, wishing for that night back, to live it all over again. He couldn't run the gang like Freddy could and he couldn't touch himself like Freddy did. It wouldn't be the same.

Mark popped his head out of the courtroom door and motioned for Joel to come back. "Recess is over man. We gotta get back." His suit fit.

**x x x**

Tim led Sophie into Russell's house and wandered off into the kitchen to find the man and explain to him why a little Brumly girl was wandering through his house. She wasn't exactly sure where Curly would be – on a couch? In a bedroom? Passed out by the toilet? – so she started in the living room and worked her way around. People were on the floor all over the first level but Curly wasn't among them, which put her nerves hard on edge. The bedrooms were upstairs, and nobody passed out in a bedroom unless they were with a girl – at least that's what everybody told her. Bedrooms were for privacy, so no one would see you going at it. The idea made her want to throw up. He couldn't – wouldn't – be over her that easily, that fast, just like that. Not when she'd finally gotten the guts up to talk to him again. After a month, after Mark, after Tim and every mess she'd ever made. She needed him. He was all she needed.

Sophie took the carpeted stairs one at a time and very cautiously. She didn't feel right here, like she was a trespasser on a religious ceremony. Would she go to Hell for comparing this place to God? Did she believe in Hell anyway? It was hard to be afraid of something that you weren't even sure was real or not – except for monsters in the closet and in your head, and if your ex-boyfriend is sleeping with somebody that isn't you.

All the doors in the long hallway were closed, even the bathroom door, whichever one that was. She froze at the top of the staircase, because she couldn't just go peek into every single room. What if people were awake, or still busy? What if someone shot her in her spying face? No, she couldn't do that. Could she wait, maybe, for someone to come out, and then she could ask them if Curly was in any of the rooms? How long would that take?

Rain had started to fall. It was lashing against the roof loudly, and splattering against the dirty windows she could see over the banister. The upper floor was just a very open-to-downstairs half floor, and she could peer down at all the people passed out on and around the living room couch.

Finally a door creaked open, and Sophie spun around. It was Curly, his shirt and shoes off and jeans hanging down on his hips like they didn't quite fit right. His face was a scarred and wounded mess, a mix of old and very recent, and it made her heart hurt. Every part of her tingled to touch him even though he looked horrified that she was there. Well that hurt a little …

He was promptly followed out the door by a giggling redhead with a tiny dress and messy hair, holding her high heels in one hand and wrapping the other down around his shoulder to rub at his chest. Her makeup was smeared and her face was orange from too much tanner foundation.

No wonder he was so horrified that Sophie was there.

She didn't say a word. She didn't try to explain herself or why she was there. She definitely wasn't going to tell him how she felt now. Instead she stared for a minute, in silence, while the bimbo slurred and sneered, "Who's this dike?" Then she rocketed down the stairs so quick it was a miracle she didn't fall head over feet and tumble down them.

Tim heard her footsteps and popped his head out the kitchen archway but she didn't stop. Not even when Curly leaned over the railing and shouted, "Sophie, wait!" She was done waiting. She was never going to wait for another person again.


	18. twilight

_I'm already plotting out the sequel as we talk, so never fear my loves, if you love this, it isn't goodbye. xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>Haven't laughed this hard in a long while<br>better stop now before I start crying  
>go off to sleep in the sunlight<br>I don't want to see the day when it's dying _

It was a torrential downpour and it brought back memories of California, because she'd never seen a rainstorm like this during an Oklahoma summer. The sky was dark grey from clouds and thunder was rumbling through the air, but she couldn't see any lightning flashes yet. The rain was lukewarm, but it sent shivers down her spine and up her arms as big drops dripped down through her collar and streaked across her face. Thank God she didn't wear mascara like the other girls or it would have been all down her cheeks.

Ruby would love this, Sophie thought with an angry sort of laughter. It was so perfect, so dramatic – the rain, the fighting, her disappointment and broken heart. What a cliché; a stupid, frustrating, unfair, cry-for-a-week cliché. Curly had moved on. She was a day too late.

"Sophie, for fuck's sake, wait!"

She was torn between whipping around and giving him a piece of her mind, or running off home and never even thinking about him again. Tears were falling down her face, mixing with the rain, and her breathing felt weird, tight, like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. She was angry, hurt, confused … For a minute she considered taking up smoking. It was supposed to calm people down, wasn't it?

He put his hand on her shoulder and she wrenched away, turning around and reaching out to push him back from the chest. He stumbled a little but didn't fall. He didn't try to get close to her again either, though. His face was open and honest, and he looked just as hurt as she did mixed with anger and frustration. He was always angry.

"What's her name?" Sophie asked, wiping at her eyes then crossing her arms across her ribs. "Who is she?"

Curly was taken aback by the question for a minute. "I dunno," he finally admitted. "I ain't got a clue who she is."

**x x x**

Court was done for the day, to resume tomorrow. Since he wasn't a flight risk or a danger to society, Freddy was allowed to go, under the condition that he would return to court the next day. They also highly suggested that he not be alone for very often, especially during the night. They'd done gang cases before, and they knew that sometimes people got hurt in the middle of them.

"Ah man, I ain't worried," Freddy said, trying to push his hair back into place. Water and oil didn't make your hair feel too great, and it was raining so much Freddy made a couple jokes about making an ark like Noah's.

"Maybe you should stay at my place anyway," Joel offered, cranking the heat in his car and peeling out of the parking lot. A few people flipped him the bird, but he didn't pay them any attention, just old ladies and businessmen who would look at him worse if they knew it was a greaser behind the wheel of this hot rod.

Freddy chuckled, and put his hand on Joel's thigh. There was nothing smooth or romantic about the gesture, but it got Joel's pants a little tight and his mind reeling. "I don't think that has anything to do with why you want me to stay at your place."

Joel breathed out a laugh, but he didn't look over or say a thing. He shook his leg a little, and Freddy took his hand back. Maybe the other night had brought Freddy closer to Joel, but it had caused the latter to want to pull away. It was what Joel had dreamed about for months, but now that it had happened … he just felt wrong. The whole, entire thing felt so wrong.

"Yeah. Maybe you should stay at your place. You'll be fine."

He dropped Freddy off at his house, and then drove away without saying a word leaving Freddy alone and confused, soaking wet in the driveway. He thought he was giving Joel exactly what he needed. He thought he'd been doing the right thing. And above all else, he thought it would make him happy. But Freddy wasn't happy, and from the looks of things, neither was Joel.

**x x x**

Joel stopped off at home first to change into something dry and fix his messed up hair. He slipped on an army green leather jacket before running outside to his car again, making it mostly dry besides a few drops on his face and on his blue jeans.

The scenery flashing by was obscured by thick rain and flashes of lightning. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon but the colour of the inky sky looked more like a starless midnight. All the lights in the hospital parking lot were turned up bright, leading him straight into the warm, white lobby like Angel's Row. And Robin was waiting for him right in the doorway.

"Joel," she said, and her voice was tiny and weightless like a feather, a little scratchy and strained, but it was Robin. A part of his mind wondered if she talked when she was by herself, maybe to herself, because her voice didn't sound disused. It just sounded scared. Even the nurses around had stopped in their tracks to stare, just as Joel was doing, at the miracle of the little girl's speech after years of never talking to anyone.

Robin didn't seem to notice though, didn't seem to care. She just used her pale, little hand to push the messy hair away from her face, blinked her big, beautiful eyes at her little brother, and said, "Joel, I want to go home."

"Okay," Joel replied in a strained whisper, with tears pooling at his eyes for the first time in years. "Okay, yeah, let's get your stuff and we'll go home."

**x x x**

Freddy was pacing. He was going back and forth, tugging at his hair, slamming his fists into the closest things to him and swearing at the top of his lungs. There was no rest in his head: he was going to prison, he had made such a canyon between him and Joel, his gang was falling apart – they didn't care about him, they only listened to Joel and they were barely a gang anymore anyway. They were just angry guys at a dead end, and all they had left was hatred and fighting and then they would die, they'd die young and reckless and alone and nothing was going to stop that.

He slipped his pistol into the waistband of his jeans and left his front door swinging wide open when he ran out into the dark.

**x x x**

Robin packed all the things she wanted to keep into a suitcase while Joel filled out the papers to take her home. It was simpler than he'd expected because he'd brought her in, she hadn't been court ordered or anything of the sort, and as long as he signed the forms stating that he'd bring her into a psychologist three days a week for at least six months, she could go home that afternoon.

"Sophie's gonna be so excited," Joel kept saying excitedly. "Man, she's missed you so much."

"I dunno," Robin whispered, playing with the hem of her dress. "I don't think she likes me much. I think I'm gonna remind her too much."

Joel shook his head. He didn't even want to think of that night. "She ain't gonna remember ever, Robbie. Don't worry." He picked her up and sat her on his lap, and she leaned into his neck.

"Don't fuckin' move. Don't even fuckin' move."

The voice came from behind him, and he could recognize it even without seeing the face. It was gruff and emotional, but it was Freddy. Something had changed in the hour they'd been apart, though. He wasn't their calm, cool, and collected gang leader. He wasn't the man. He was just desperate.

"Freddy, what are you doing?" Joel asked calmly. From the nurse's face across the desk he could tell that Freddy was packing, and probably pointing it at him. Robin was shivering violently against his chest, but he put his hand on the back of her head and wouldn't let her look up. With his other hand he rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles, but it wasn't stopping her tears falling onto his collarbone.

Before replying, he shot the nurse. The bullet hit her in the head and sent blood and other matter dripping down her face as she slumped down in her chair. Robin screamed and flattened her palms against her ears. Then he said, in an eerily calm voice, "I can't do this anymore, Joel. I just can't."

"You don't have to do this," Joel said, and it was his voice that was wobbly and strained. This couldn't be happening. This was the happiest day of his life, Robin was coming home, she was talking, she was having _conversations_. "You're right. Just put the gun down man. Please."

"No," Freddy said, and he inhaled deeply. "No, no see it's your fault that everything's all fucked up Joel. You ruined EVERYTHING!" He was yelling now, like a wild man, and if Joel had turned around he'd see spittle flying from Freddy's mouth. "An' to get it all back I gotta get rid'a you."

"No, Freddy, you don't gotta do nothin'," Joel said, and he was begging and holding Robin as close to him as possible because if he let her go, Freddy would shoot her as she ran off. He wasn't Freddy anymore. He was crazy. "Man, no, just put the gun down …"

But Freddy didn't put it down. Instead he sent a bullet sailing straight through Joel's shoulder, ripping through skin and muscle and nerves, and straight through into Robin's slender, soft little neck.

**x x x**

"That chick wasn't anythin', we didn't even do nothin'," Curly fought, grabbing her upper arms with strong, rough hands. "She was all over me an' I did nothin'. Didn't touch her 'cept to push her off."

Sophie shook her head, trying weakly to pull away. She really didn't want to step back, she wanted to step forward and wrap her arms around his torso and pull him back to her heart. But how could she, after what he'd done? His excuses were pathetic and the way that girl was hanging off him, that wasn't "nothing". That was everything.

"I love you," he said, and he meant it more than anything else he'd ever uttered in his life. "I love you Sophie. Fuck, I love you."

Then he got down on his knee, and held her hand, and looked at her like she was the only thing in the universe, and his heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was trying to burst out of his chest, and he could barely breathe and had no idea how he managed to get the words out, but he had to do it, because it was the most important thing in his life.

He said, "Sophie, will you marry me?"

She couldn't move, or think, or breathe. Every nerve in her body was frozen. "Curly," she breathed, her head spinning. "Curly, I –"

**THE END**


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